What A Good Girl
by Amber4
Summary: Chapter 4 up. Hermione point-of-view, post Downfall of Voldemort.
1. Memories

A/N: Hullo, welcome to my second fanfic. If you've ever read my first "Never Is Enough", just let me tell you that I think this is far and away better. I still plan in finishing NIE, but this one has captivated my attention better than the other one. If you wish to review, don't hesitate to give me the bold truth. If you think it's awful, let me know. I have no problems with taking criticism. Also, the next chapter will be shorter seeing as I've already written it. I hope to have it up in a week or two. 

A small bit of this was inspired by George Orwell's "1984". The title was inspired by the fantabulous Barenaked Ladies, a Canadian rock band. And no, they're neither naked nor ladies. 

Many thanks for Jane, April, and Gwen who beta'd this for me. You guys rock! 

Disclaimer: Nothing in this belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, who is neither god nor goddess, but a simple mortal. May we all follow her example. 

What A Good Girl - Chapter 1: Memories 

_"When I was born, they looked at me and said  
'What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy'  
And when you were born, they looked at you and said  
'What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl'  
_

We've got these chains hanging 'round our necks  
People want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath  
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same  
When temptation calls, we just look away."  
- Barenaked Ladies  


"Ms. Granger!" 

Hermione jerked with a start out of her thoughts. Her head whipped up and she looked at the secretary who was glaring at her with snappish green eyes. The woman raised a thin black eyebrow and pointed to Mr. Bradbury's office. "He is ready for you now, Ms. Granger. I suggest you don't keep him waiting." 

Biting back a retort, Hermione took a firmer grip of her resume portfolio and rose. Smoothing her black robes, she walked to the door indicated with confidence and pushed it open. 

Behind a desk, looking at papers, sat Mr. Bradbury. He looked up and nodded at her. "Ms Granger? Come, sit down please." 

Telling herself to stand tall, Hermione swept into the Mr. Bradbury's office. The walls were covered in bookshelves and books and a handsome mahogany desk sat in the center. There was one leather-covered chair and Hermione sat in it. She folded her hands over her folder, looked at the man behind the desk, and forced herself to smile. 

Mr. Bradbury had shortly-cut brown hair, brown eyes, and serious horn-rimmed glasses. He returned Hermione's stiff smile and reshuffled his papers. "So, Ms. Granger, you're interested in the position for research assistant in the Curses Department here with the Ministry?" 

"Yes. I believe that my prior experience would make me perfect for the job." She quickly handed him one of her resumes and for the next hour Mr. Bradbury questioned her thoroughly on her class work at Hogwarts and research consulting experience. When the interview wound down to the end, Hermione braced herself for the inevitable. 

Mr. Bradbury toyed with the quill he'd used to make notes. "Well, Ms. Granger, you have considerable experience. Of course, we still have candidates to interview but you are more than qualified for the position. You should hear back from me in about a week about the position in Curses." 

"Thank you, Mr. Bradbury," Hermione said and waited for the unavoidable question. 

He paused and looked at her with a foolish grin on his face. "Ms. Granger, if you don't mind, may I ask you about Harry Potter?" 

Even though she knew it was coming, and had heard the question thousands of times before, Hermione still stiffened. "What is it you would like to know?" She couldn't afford to tell him to bugger off. 

Mr. Bradbury leaned forward. "Is it true that he went crazy and lives in Antarctica away from all wizarding contact? That he's shaved his head and grown a beard?" 

Hermione struggle to keep her face and voice pleasant; half of her wanted to laugh in his face at the ridiculous rumor, the other half wanted to cry. "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Bradbury, but I haven't been in touch with Mr. Potter in years. I'm quite unaware of his whereabouts and habits at this time." 

The man's face showed the surprise and disappointment that countless others had exhibited. "But…you helped him bring about the downfall of Vol…Volde…Voldemort!" He stumbled over the name that years of habit had suppressed. 

"Yes I did, Mr. Bradbury. But those days are long gone. Harry and I became busy and we drifted out of contact." Inside, Hermione prayed that he'd leave things at that. She could barely manage to utter the half-truths that she had told countless other people. 

"Oh. Well, then." Mr. Bradbury looked down at his papers and then looked up with an insatiably curious look in his brown eyes. "How was it? You know…the final confrontation? Against Vol…demort." 

She wanted to scream. However, she wanted this research position more. "It was quite awful Mr. Bradbury. I'm very glad that its in the past and done with." She said the last firmly, hoping he would take the hint that she didn't want to elaborate. 

"Oh." Finally he sighed disappointed and offered his hand across the desk. "We'll be in touch with you Ms. Granger. I hope you have a nice day." 

Forcing her hand forward, Hermione shook hands and left without another word. She left the office hurriedly. Out in the waiting room, the secretary ignored her utterly as she sat filing papers. Tucking her head down, Hermione found her way back out into the hallway of the Ministry, down the levivator, and into the front reception area. She went to the desk and got her wand, which had been taken from her upon entering the building. Ignoring speculating looks, Hermione hurried out of the Ministry and past the guards. Finally, when she had left the boundaries of the Ministry steps, Hermione gathered her will and Apparated to her flat. 

She appeared in her tiny living room. Sighing, Hermione dropped down onto her couch. Her tired brown eyes took in the dishes scattered across the kitchen table, the newspaper clippings littering the living room floor, the dingy bare beige walls around her. He nose wrinkled at the slightly moldy smell. Putting her wand on the small couch side table, she turned on the small radio. 

"...And its been discovered that the victims died from imbibing the Burning Potion." The perky voice chirruped from the speakers. "As you know, it's a rare Dark Arts potion that eventually dissolves a person's insides unless counteracted within the first minute of dosage. This potion is quite illegal and if anyone has any information on this recent death, please owl…" 

Hermione promptly switched the radio back off. She was in no mood to hear about a witch or wizard's insides burning up. She gave another cursory glance at the employment newspaper clippings and got up to make some dinner. 

Standing by the microwave as she waiting for her beef and potatoes to heat up, Hermione's thought inevitably wandered to the interview earlier that evening. Wrapping her arms around herself, she wondered if it was always going to be like that. Going through life being asked about Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, having assumptions being made on her. She had thought that after awhile, people would have forgotten about it or at least moved on. But after three years, people were still curious about the whole mess. Even though the Daily Prophet had done a whole issue on the defeat of Lord Voldemort, wizards and witches wanted to hear it firsthand from her. 

Hermione had spent the first month after the Downfall in bed and the next eleven months at home. She hadn't wanted to have any contact with the wizarding world for that first year. She hadn't wanted to talk to anyone about the ordeal, not after the first and only briefing with Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge. She had refused to talk to reporters, refused to talk to anyone except her parents. And she had refused to talk to or even see Ron and Harry. Not that it had mattered; they hadn't wanted to see her either. 

The microwave beeped and Hermione pulled out her dinner. She made her way over to the tiny kitchen table and pushed some dirty dishes over to make room. Sitting, Hermione mechanically began to eat. It was the typical microwave dinner, tasting like cardboard, but she didn't care. It didn't require thought to make and that was what was important. 

After finishing, Hermione threw the plastic tray away and looked out the small window. It was five o'clock and still daylight out. As much as she wanted to crawl in bed and fall into oblivion, she couldn't yet. Sighing, Hermione went back to the living room and knelt next to the current day's paper spread out on the floor. That morning, she'd only gone through half of the employment section in the Daily Prophet. She might as well go through the rest. 

Until two months ago, Hermione had been self-employed as a research consultant. Occasionally wizarding companies would hire out for extra research on projects and spells and Hermione would attempt to get those jobs. The economy had been good and she'd been able to find enough short-term assignments to make ends meet. However, when the Wizarding Stock Exchange (WSE) had taken a swan dive, companies had stopped hiring out for extra research. Hermione's work possibilities had dwindled to non-existent. She had quickly realized that she needed to find a regularly paying job in order to keep her tiny apartment and independence. So, Hermione had reluctantly brushed up her resume, pulled on her formal robes, and hit the streets. 

However, the WSE remained low and businesses continued to lay wizards and witches off. And even though Hermione had graduated from Hogwarts with top honors and had around two years of experience in research, she couldn't find work. Either employers wanted applicants with less experience or others had more experience then her. And the fact that she was quasi-famous didn't even help. In fact, she wondered if it hurt, especially when the interviewer found out that she wasn't in contact with Harry Potter anymore. 

For the next hour, Hermione went through the rest of the employment section looking for prospects. There were depressingly few. She circled the possibilities in red ink and resolved to owl the next day and see if she could wrangle any more interviews. 

Finishing with the last page, Hermione looked to the window again. Still daylight. She turned off all the lights in the kitchen and living room and went to her bedroom where all her books lay scattered about. She picked up a huge one, one her parents had bought her, "Most Potente Potions: Dark Arts Edition". It was huge and was taking her awhile to read through and take notes on. Even though she wasn't currently employed, Hermione was determined to keep expanding her knowledge base. The more she knew, the more marketable she was. 

After finally getting through the chapter on "Possessions: How To Force Those To Your Will", Hermione decided it was time to go to sleep. She took a quick shower, changed into her blue cotton pajamas, and swept off the books littering her bed. 

Turning off the lights, Hermione slipped between the thin sheets. She stared at the ceiling, trying not to think. But her brain inevitably turned to the interview, where Mr. Bradbury had asked about Harry. She shuddered and curled up in the blankets. She hated it when people asked her about Harry and Ron. She never knew what to say, or how to explain the truth to them. After awhile she'd stopped explaining, giving people the short, vague answers that she had given Mr. Bradbury instead of fruitless explanations. 

Hermione still remembered clearly the day during her seventh year when Dumbledore had called her, Ron, and Harry into his office and asked them to sit. 

_Albus Dumbledore looked far older then ever before, deep circles under his eyes. His robes looked like they hadn't been changed in days. Of course, it was understandable; he was trying to find a way to defeat a nearly immortal wizard. _

After fifth year had started at Hogwarts, a castle had sprung up five miles from school. The Aurors who went to investigate were later found dead. It was quickly discovered that the castle was Voldemort's. Fudge's attempt at suppressing the panic failed. When the killings began again, many had fled the country. Not too many students had been allowed to go back to Hogwarts. Harry was here because the Dursley's didn't want him. Ron was here because his family was working with Dumbledore to defeat Voldemort and they deemed Hogwarts the safest place for him. She was here because she had convinced her parents to let her stay. 

The odd thing, which Hermione found out from the Daily Prophet, was that the outside of the castle was a complete copy of Hogwarts. Nobody knew what the inside looked like, but one could only assume that the inside was the same too. Hermione wondered why Voldemort would copy his old school as his base of operations. 

Dumbledore coughed, grabbing Hermione's attention. "Now, you three know that many witches and wizards are trying to work out a way to defeat Voldemort. Ron, your parents are involved, along with many others. Well, our efforts have not been in vain; we've come up with a way and need you three. 

"I won't go into a lecture on how it will be dangerous and you will very likely die, you three know that. I will, however, tell you why I'm you instead of professional wizards into Voldemort's castle. The reason resides solely with Harry." 

Again, Hermione wasn't surprised. As she shared a glance with Harry and Ron, it was obvious that they weren't either. 

"Lord Voldemort has some of Harry's blood in his veins. While Voldemort considers this an advantage, he neglects to realize that it is also a weakness. My spell makes use of that weakness. That is why I need Harry." 

Dumbledore had then turned his attention to Ron and her. "I need you two because the spell is…well…too big. I can't place it in one person; Harry couldn't hold that much power. Two people could, but I've decided to place it in three. Let me explain my reasoning." 

Then, Dumbledore had told them that he planned to place the spell directly in Harry, Ron, and her. To work the spell, they would have to sneak into Voldemort's castle, touch him, and recite the trigger words. The spell had two effects; it would take away Voldemort's powers irrevocably and then perform a sort of 'Avada Kedavra' that would kill him absolutely. As Dumbledore had said before, two people could perform this spell. However, he was aware that one person could die before getting to Voldemort and couldn't ignore that danger. That's why both Hermione and Ron were both going to be given the second half of the spell. If one of them didn't survive, the other could still perform the spell with Harry. It was essential that Harry survived, since the spell needed Harry's blood in order to be performed correctly. 

Furthermore, in order for the Death Spell to work split in half, Dumbledore would place the Iunctura spell upon them. This would literally create a living bond between Harry, Ron and Hermione. The obvious pre-requisite for the Iunctura to work was that the persons involved had to be very close. Ron and Hermione were clearly the closest to Harry out of everyone else in the wizarding world. Not even Sirius Black knew Harry like they did. That is why they had to be the ones to go with Harry and not adults. 

Hermione allowed a small smile to drift across her face as she remembered how the Iunctura bond had changed them. She felt, as did the boys, a physical awareness of the other two, when within a close proximity of each other. They could even feel general moods and emotions. The week before they left for Voldemort's castle had been wonderful; Harry, Ron and her had never been closer. 

Such a shame that it had ended so soon. 

Slowly, Hermione's eyelids began to droop as the stressful day caught up with her. Not wanting to reminisce about the past a moment longer, she surrendered to the dark and her dreams. 

* * * *

_For a long time, Hermione had been alone in the small room that the Dementors flung her into. It was devoid of any furniture, the walls and floor made of concrete. While Voldemort's castle held the same room structure as Hogwarts, it was very, very different from her beloved school. She spent her time dozing (propped up against the farthest wall from the metal door) and wondering what was going to happen to her. Nobody came to see her, to make demands, to feed her. As the time lengthened, Hermione began to wish fervently that someone would at least come to threaten her a little. _

And then the door opened. 

Her head snapped up and she stared from her cross-legged position on the floor. Lord Voldemort stepped easily into the room and smiled at her. She knew it was him, knew it couldn't be anyone else. He was tall and thin, his skin white as paper. His eyes, a brilliant scarlet, were the only spot of color in his face. His nose was flat with slits for nostrils. He looked like an albino snake, ready to strike at any moment. She wondered insensibly if his tongue was forked. 

Voldemort's colorless lips stretched into a smile. "Hermione Granger, I believe. Best friend to Harry Potter. Confirmed bookworm. I'm so pleased to have you here at my humble abode." His voice was high, thin, and horrible. 

She gaped at him, completely surprised. "You know who I am?" 

Voldemort nodded, his smile growing a trifle larger. "I've always known who you are Hermione. Ever since you aligned yourself with Mr. Potter, that is. I try to keep up on his acquaintances." 

Hermione's mind whirled and she struggled for something clever to say. "Let me go!" She winced inwardly at how scared the words sounded. 

The snake before her sniggered and she couldn't suppress the involuntary shiver at the sound. "Why, Hermione, don't you like it here? I haven't even done anything to you yet." 

She stared at him, trying to swallow around the lump in her throat. "Yet?" 

"Why, yes Miss Hermione, I'm going to hurt you. In fact, I'm going to destroy you." 

Hermione breath caught. "Kill?" She knew that this was a possibility, even since Voldemort had risen her fourth year at Hogwarts. For the past three years, she had prepared herself for the likelihood of dying before she graduated from Hogwarts. Still, she had always believed that she would survive. 

"In a sense." Voldemort folded his arms nonchalantly. "Hermione, you're a seventh year at Hogwarts. I imagine that you've had the traditional field trip to St. Mungo's." He didn't wait for her to affirm this. "Do you remember seeing a married couple there? By the name of Longbottom perhaps?" 

Hermione managed to nod. She didn't see the point in lying. 

"Now Hermione, you surely know that my Death Eaters put them there. Right after my Fall, they were tortured for information of my whereabouts. It seemed to drive them mad, didn't it?" 

Her throat closed. "Seemed?" she choked out. 

"Ah, you're a quick witch Hermione. You pick up on word choices easily. Yes, Hermione, seemed. But what if they weren't insane? What if they were only acting insane? What if on the inside, they knew perfectly well what was going on?" The crimson eyes seemed to take on an inward maniacal glow. 

A sudden image flashed before Hermione's minds eye. She remembered seeing a small face peeking out of the small window of cell that held the Longbottoms. It had been Mrs. Longbottom, a loopy grin on her face. She had been pulling out her hair, her mouth moving in incomprehensible speech. Her eyes had been horrific. Opened to their widest, the pupils had consistently darted around, not staying on one place for more than a second. Hermione had had nightmares that night because of those eyes, because of their wildness. 

"Yes, Hermione. They were never tortured, just cursed. The Longbottoms are quite sane, just trapped in their minds, their bodies. Forced to act insane, not able to communicate with anyone, not even their son." Voldemort giggled, the sound chilling Hermione's blood. "Poetic justice against the wizarding world for defying me, I think. And while I was not the one to curse them so, I surely do know the curse performed on them. I'm quite anxious to try it out, to see if it still works Hermione. Do you know who I want to try it out on? Do you, Hermione, the smartest witch at Hogwarts? Do you?" 

She didn't want to believe him, not at all. She wanted to tell herself that he was bluffing. But something in his eyes, in his voice, told her that he was telling the horrible truth. 

"Yes, Hermione, you'll be the first that I perform the Dementis Curse on. Unless…" 

Hermione's heart leaped and she inadvertently leaned forward in a sudden flash of hope. 

"...Unless you give me something that I want Hermione. If you do, I'll just kill you then. A quick, clean death. Much preferable to spending the rest of your days trapped in St. Mungo's I'm sure you'd agree." 

"Wha...What do you want?" Inside, Hermione's mind was running around in circles. You can't do this, you can't deal with the Dark Lord, this is insane, don't listen to him, don't do it, you can't, you can't, you can't! 

Voldemort's crimson eyes gleamed. "Why, Hermione, I want you to tell me where Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter are." 

Hermione felt suddenly and strangely relieved. This wasn't something she could even consider giving him. Finding strength in that knowledge, Hermione sat up straight, looked Voldemort straight in the eye, and said "Never." 

"Really. Never? Won't you even consider dear Hermione? Think about the Longbottoms, Hermione." 

"No, I would never tell you where Ron and Harry are. And stop calling me Hermione! I'm not your friend!" She was surprised at the sudden strength in her voice even though her hands were shaking slightly from fear. Just keep thinking about Ron and Harry. 

"My, my, such vehemence!" Voldemort shook his head. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter what your answer is. It's fun for me no matter what. I was just giving you a chance to die peacefully." Without warning, the Voldemort darted swiftly forward and grabbed her arm. "Now, this won't hurt a bit, be a good girl. You've always been a good girl, haven't you Hermione?" 

Her first thought was to twist away and make a run for it, but the moment Voldemort's fingers closed on her skin she couldn't move. Her eyes widened as he yanked her to her feet, pulled out his wand, and licked his lips. "Hermione, one last chance. Tell me where Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley are and I'll just perform the Avada Kedavra curse instead." 

She couldn't speak through her tightened throat but barely managed to shake her head negative. 

"Alright then. Dementis personam gero!" 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. A thick, swirling fog came out of nowhere and clouded her eyes till she could see nothing else. A cold wind sprang up. It whirled around her, numbing her senses. First she couldn't feel her feet, then her legs. As the creeping cold swept slowly up her body, the fog before her eyes began a whirlwind. The most horrid thing was that her hearing was perfectly fine; she could hear the vicious laughter of the Dark Lord. 

Inside, Hermione was shattering. She couldn't stand this. She couldn't live like this, completely numb, covered in a whirlwind. It was impossible, unthinkable. And in that moment of complete fear and panic, she forgot about Lord Voldemort. She forgot about Dumbledore's desperate plan. She even forgot about Harry and Ron and their living bond. All she knew was that she was screaming before the numbness could take over her mouth, "No, no, take it off, I'll tell you, I'll tell you where they are, please, take it off!" 

The laughter stopped and she heard "Discutio turbo!" 

And the cold receded. The fog dissipated. And Hermione, tears rolling uncontrollably down her face spilled it all. She told him where Ron and Harry were supposed to meet her in the castle, that Harry had his invisibility cloak, that Ron had an invisibility charm placed on him. She told him their plans, how the spell was supposed to work, the trigger words they needed to say. And when there was nothing else to tell, she continued to babble the same information over and over until Voldemort stopped her. 

"Ah, my dear Hermione, thank you so much for the information. You have been most helpful and have earned your quick death, though it will not take place now. Unfortunately, most unfortunately, your news was not needed." 

Through her tears, she looked up at him, horror growing in her chest. He smiled at her. "Why Hermione, I already know where your Ron and Harry are. I've known for several days. In fact, they were both captured shortly after your own capture. You see, they're here in the castle Hermione." 

Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at the opposite wall and it suddenly swirled with color. There, on the wall, were Ron and Harry. She heard screaming, their screams, their pain. She heard them both betray the other and her, driven nearly mad by the Dementis curse. Then, the figures disintegrated until it was just a wall again. 

Hermione could barely hear through the sudden pounding of her ears. But she heard Lord Voldemort quite clearly as he leaned and whispered in her ear. "Yes, Hermione, you betrayed your deepest friends. You betrayed the living bond that was placed on you. And they betrayed you just as quickly. Betrayer and betrayed. How does it feel Hermione? Please be truthful." 

When she didn't answer, couldn't answer, he let go of her arm and left the room. Hermione fell to her knees and didn't bother to get up.   
  



	2. Destruction

A/N: All right, here we go, second chapter. It's shorter than the previous chapter, but I could just not coax anything further out. Also, it might be a longer wait for the next chapter. I've got Chapters 3 and 4 written (not edited, though) but I want to spend time developing Chapter 5 and 6. 

This chapter was depressing to write. It's probably depressing to read. I tried my best. Tell me what I could improve on. 

Thanks to all the kind, kind people who left constructive reviews. It is wonderful to hear feedback, especially when it's thoughtful. But I don't mind flames either. If I collect enough flames, I hope to trade them in for a toaster oven. Bring it on! 

Disclaimer: Nothing in this belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling who is neither a god nor goddess, but a simple mortal. May we all follow her example. 

What A Good Girl - Chapter 2: Destruction 

_" 'They can't get inside you,' she had said. But the could get inside you...There were things, your own acts, from which you could not recover. Something was killed in your breast; burnt out, cauterized out."  
- George Orwell, "1984"_

Cold cement floor beneath her body. High spiraling laughter. Burning tears scalding her cheeks from tired eyes. Screams. The desire to die, to fade away. 

* * * *

Hermione bolted upright, gasping. Raising a shaking hand, she managed to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. In the sudden light she sat shivering, listening to the frantic beating of her own heart. 

_I am not with Voldemort. I am free. I am here in my apartment. I am not with Voldemort._ Hermione rocked back and forth, repeating the mantra silently. Slowly, very slowly, her heart stopped its frenzied thumping. Still taking deep breaths, Hermione swung her shaking legs out of bed and wobbled to the kitchen to get a cup of tea. 

Waiting for the water to boil, Hermione felt like crying. Three years. It had been three years since she'd been captured and imprisoned in Voldemort's castle. Three years and she was still having nightmares about what happened in there. Granted she didn't have them often but they hadn't left her no matter how much time had passed. 

Startled by the high whistle of the steam, Hermione poured the water and took her mug of Earl Gray back to her bedroom. She sat in bed, cradling the cracked mug in her hands, taking sips. 

She could still feel the shock, the choking realization that she had betrayed those dearest to her. And she still felt the wrenching pain that had come when she found out that Ron and Harry had betrayed her just as easily. Of all the horrible things that Hermione had anticipated Voldemort doing, she hadn't imagined that he would try and destroy their friendship. It had been a clever thing to do, for it had knocked the solid ground right out from under her feet. 

_I felt broken._ And she had been broken after the Downfall. Hermione hadn't had any injuries besides some burns, but her spirit had been mangled. And while the doctors and nurses at St. Mungo's could perform miracles on the body, they couldn't do much for the mind. So she had went back home and huddled in her room for months. It had been awhile before her parents could coax her out of bed, longer before she would set foot out of the house. 

_If Voldemort were still alive, he'd be pleased at how low he brought Harry Potter and his friends. Even three years later I'm still trying to recover._

Shaking off the thought, Hermione finished her tea and set the mug on her bedside table. However, she didn't turn the lights back off yet. Instead, her treacherous mind took her back to the night of the Downfall. 

* * * *

After Voldemort had left her shuddering on the floor, Hermione had no recognition of the time that passed. She knew, barely, that someone had come in and fed her. She also knew that someone had changed her black travel robes to ones of pure white. But at that point, she hadn't cared what was done with her. In many, many ways, Hermione felt as if she was already dead. 

However, she wasn't in truth and a guard eventually came. She was forced to her feet, pulled out of the cement room, and prodded down countless halls. As she walked down the bleak corridors, Hermione had enough prescience to notice that the layout was very similar to Hogwarts. 

After numerous staircases, she and her guard had entered a room that had the same proportions as the Great Hall. The ceiling looked like the night sky, but instead of being full of tranquil stars, lightning flashed silently across it. The room was lit dimly, although Hermione couldn't tell from what source. It certainly wasn't from floating candles, for there were none. Also, there were no house tables. Instead, Death Eaters filled the room. The ones in front of her parted, allowing her and her guard through to the center of the room. 

Breaking through the last Death Eaters, Hermione finally saw the source of light. Floating about six feet off the floor was a glowing quartz crystal. The light radiated from it in waves, brightly lighting the immediate area. And around it stood Voldemort, Harry, and Ron. 

She was suddenly and painfully aware of her closest friends. While their trust and friendship in each other had been broken, the Iunctara bond was crazily not. She could feel the despair, fear, and hurt rolling off of them in waves. Hermione accidentally looked into their eyes and hurriedly ripped her gaze away; the flatness in the blue and green had been chilling. 

"My Death Eaters, did I not promise you glory? Did I not promise you power? And did I not promise you Harry Potter and his supporters brought low?" Hermione looked up at Voldemort, startled by Harry's name. "Look at them, able with a few movements and a word to destroy me utterly. But I have destroyed them first though they breathe. I have destroyed them by cracking their bond of friendship. They will never ever recover." 

The Death Eaters murmured and Hermione saw Voldemort grab Harry's arm. At that point, she realized that both Harry and Ron were wearing the same white robes as she. "See how he doesn't react. He's as good as dead inside his mind. There isn't always need to hurt physically; mentally and emotionally do just as well!" And indeed, Harry did nothing but gaze straight ahead. 

Voldemort let the arm fall. "And today, Death Eaters, today you and I will finally have what is rightfully ours. Our power will rise above all others and we will crush the world to our feet." 

"My followers, we will be gods and nobody, nobody, will be able to stand in our way." 

As Voldemort ranted and raved, Hermione forced herself to look at her ex-friends again. Ron stood, dazed, gazing at the crystal in front of him. His blue eyes had a clouded cast to them; it was as if he had no clear idea of what was happening. Turning her attention to Harry, she noticed a distinct difference. Instead of seeming oblivious, Harry looked completely aware of what was going on. His green eyes stared at her calmly but bleakly. Clearly he knew he was about to die but didn't care. 

"Death Eaters, here and now will we destroy all who oppose us, symbolized in this boy, whom the wizarding world fondly call 'The Boy Who Lived'. His blood will be the gateway to our power, his friends the funnel through which we will receive the power. Their blood, poured on the Crystal, will lift us all!" 

As Voldemort shrieked these last words, the Death Eaters broke into triumphant yelling. Hermione, through her lucid state, felt something within her stir. Her conscience, which had been silent until now, slowly uncurled from its silent position in the back of her mind. It quietly assessed the situation and then spoke. 

_We must stop him._

_No. I don't care,_ Hermione thought savagely back at it. _I don't care what happens. I hurt too much to care._

_You do too care what happens. You want it to end like this?_ Her conscience countered. _All that studying, seven years worth, and you want to throw it away? Throw your dreams, your triumphs away? All because your friendship with Harry and Ron is broken?_

_Yes!_

_No! You don't truly want that, I should know. But that's beside the point. It doesn't matter what you want to happen to your life right now. What matters is following the rules. You always follow the rules Hermione. Always. If refusing to save the world because you 'hurt' isn't breaking one of the biggest rules of mankind, then I don't know what is._

Hermione closed her eyes, hoping to block out the little internal voice. _Maybe I'm tired of 'rules'. Maybe I'm tired of being Good Little Hermione who does everything right._

_Well, then this is a hell of a time to suddenly question your entire lifestyle! This isn't a matter of 'wants' right now. This is a matter of saving the world from a ruthless, powerful wizard._ Her conscience ended on a note of exasperation. 

_I suppose you're going to tell me all the good things to live for in life? All the good things worth saving the world for._

_No I won't. Life, a lot of the time, is bloody awful. And the good bits don't always counteract the bad. But it can be agreed on by everyone sane that a free world is better than an enslaved one. Do you think that Voldemort is going to give Mudbloods the freedom to study magic? Do you think that Voldemort is going to give anybody the freedom to do anything? Stopping this monster from enslaving the wizarding and muggle world is the only right thing to do. And you've always done what's right, Hermione; are you going to stop now?_

Hermione opened her eyes. Though she didn't want to admit it, her conscience was correct. Trying to stop Voldemort was the only possible option, the only action. She couldn't accept death when it meant that countless others would suffer. 

But she knew that she couldn't do anything unless Harry helped. Without him, the spell would never work. 

Pushing the screaming inside away, Hermione force her eyes towards Harry's. She stared at him, willing him to see her. _I know you hurt Harry. I do too. But we must forget that._

The green flickered, but the searing pain didn't leave. He looked at her, forlorn and pale in white. She wondered belatedly if he actually saw her. 

_Harry,_ mouthed Hermione. _Harry, you must act first. Or it won't matter what I do._

To the side, Voldemort had pulled out a silver dagger. A foot long, it glinted jerkily in the crystal light. "And now we will kill them, put them out of their misery. We will take the power that is ours and I will lead you ahead of the legions of the Dark!" 

_Please Harry,_ mouthed Hermione again. 

Voldemort walked briskly over to Harry, closed his crimson eyes, and drew the knife high. "Now is the time for the reaping!" 

_Please?_

Without words, Harry leapt to the side and grabbed Ron's hand. Hermione, reacting on instinct, dashed forward and seized Voldemort's upraised arm, stopping it from plunging. The Dark Lord's eyes snapped open and he stared at her unbelievingly. Not thinking, Hermione stuck her left hand out and felt Harry grab it. 

"ERRADICO SCHELUS!" 

As both Harry and Hermione shrieked these words, the crystal cracked, blazed up in sudden fire, and Voldemort exploded into a thousand bits. 

* * * *

Hermione gave a small shudder, tears falling down her face. She didn't remember anything after triggering the spell. A flash of heat, a scream, and she had fallen into darkness. The Downfall had been that quick. 

When next Hermione woke, she was in St. Mungo's healing from burns. She was told that both Harry and Ron survived and were recovering in different rooms. She could see them whenever she wanted. However, she never saw them and they never saw her. 

Hermione sat in bed, reliving these memories that hung around her like a chain. They dragged her down each day. For the next couple of hours before she fell back asleep, Hermione cried silently for a friendship that had been destroyed. 

* * * *

The next morning, Hermione woke around ten. She groggily got up and stumbled her tiny shower. After cleaning up, she struggled into some gray sweats. She didn't have any interviews to dress up for, so comfort was the order of the day. 

The rest of that morning and half of the afternoon Hermione spent owling potential employers with an owl that she had rented from the Owl Post Office. Ad after ad she tried, trying to find a job. She eventually gave up trying for a strictly research job and began looking for anything that she might be qualified for besides minimum wage. Fortunately, that morning yielded a few prospects. She even got a possibility of an interview. 

Hermione pillowed her head in her hands and stared out the window. The sun slowly went across the sky. Just as she was nodding off, the phone rang. 

Jerking out of her trance, Hermione raced to the kitchen and snatched the receiver. 

"Hello? Hello?" Hermione paused and listened to voice. "Oh, mum. Yes…I'm all right…yes, everything's all right Mum. I just was asleep and the phone startled me. What is it?" 

Hermione rolled her eyes at the anxious question. "Mum, I'm fine, just peachy keen. Yes, I'm still haven't a job. Yes, I looked in today's paper! No, I haven't heard anything back from the Ministry. It hasn't even been a day yet. They're not going to contact me the day after the interview. I mean, they said that it would take a…" 

Hermione trailed off as a ball of glowing light appeared above his kitchen table. Inside it, the face of Mr. Bradbury appeared looking quite nervous. 

"Uh, Mum, I have to go. I'll speak to you later!" Hermione slapped down the phone and then remembered what she was wearing. Hiding the grimace, Hermione tried to look as professional as she could in sweats. 

"Ms. Granger? Can you hear and see me?" His eyes peered anxiously out of the glowing orb. 

"Yes, Mr. Bradbury. Perfectly well." 

"Good then. I am orbing for two reasons." At this point, Mr. Bradbury's eyes lowered. "First to tell you that we've decided to hire somebody else for the position that you interviewed for. I've terribly sorry about that." 

"Not as sorry as I am." Hermione managed to hide her disappointment. However, her curiosity began to grow. Normally a rejection meant a post from an owl, not a personal orb. 

"I do have another message. Recently, there have been killings in the wizarding world, quite a few killings. And while the Aurors have been working hard to catch the murderer, they haven't been successful." 

Hermione frowned. "And you are telling me this because?" 

Mr. Bradbury looked earnestly out of the floating ball. "We believe that the murderer is copying the murders of Volde…mort." 

Of all things he could've said, this was the last that Hermione had expected. "Oh." 

"We want you to come in. The Aurors want all the information they can get about…You Know Who, in order to try and catch the murderer before somebody else dies. You're one of our resources, being one of the three who witnessed the final destruction of Vol…de…demort. Furthermore, the Minister wants a few words as well." 

Hermione was dumbstruck. She didn't know quite what to say. But then a disturbing thought popped into her mind. "Are Harry and Ron coming in as well?" 

Mr. Bradbury was silent for a second. "Yes." 

"Then my answer is no." Hermione turned and hoped that Mr. Bradbury would accept that without argument. 

"I'm afraid you have no choice," she heard from behind her. "Whether you want to come or not doesn't matter. If you don't show up nine o'clock tomorrow morning at the Ministry, Aurors will come for you. I think everyone would rather you show up on your own instead of in a full body-bind." 

Hermione turned around furiously. "You can't do that!" But inside, she knew they could. Obviously things had escalated to the level that the Minister could order in witnesses. 

Mr. Bradbury sighed. "Ms. Granger, you know full well that the Ministry has the authority. Will you be here? Or do I have to notify the Aurors to be at your flat tomorrow?" 

Hermione anger deflated. She swallowed and hunched her shoulders. There was no way she was getting out of it. "I'll be there." 

"Very good, then. It was nice to see you again, Ms. Granger. The Minister looks forward to talking to you tomorrow."   
  



	3. Reintroduction

A/N: Wow, third chapter. Just a warning, this chapter really gave me fits. I'm incredibly nervous about it. It's the only one so far that I was drawing blanks at certain parts. Anyways reviews are always appreciated, although just the fact that you're reading this is enough for me. 

The quote below is from the Barenaked Ladies song "Too Little Too Late" off their Maroon CD. Their song "What A Good Boy" inspired this fanfic and I stole the title from a line in that song. 

Thank you Padfoot Lover, ~Chupacabra~, minx, Faith, perenelle, Nora, Gwen, Cr1Ms0n^D3v1L, AVK, and Hydy for your kind reviews. Extra thanks to ~Chupacabra~, and Faith for reviewing both chapters! 

Disclaimer: Nothing in this belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling who is neither a god nor goddess, but a simple mortal. May we all follow her example. 

What A Good Girl - Chapter 3: Reintroduction 

_"One day, this embarrassment will fade behind me  
And that day I could think of things that won't remind me  
But these days it's unbearable for both of us,  
We can't discuss it this way…"  
- Barenaked Ladies, "Too Little Too Late"  
_

The next morning, Hermione woke up promptly at 7:00 a.m. After showering, she dressed in her neatest black robes and twisted her hair into a simple bun. Looking calm and professional, Hermione went and sat silently at her small kitchen table. For the remaining time she did nothing other than think about what she was going to do when she saw Harry and Ron. Her nails clicked rhythmically against the tabletop as she chewed her lip. 

Inexorably, the minutes ticked by and Hermione reluctantly Apparated to the Ministry. She appeared in the Apparation area and stood silently for a moment. The Ministry was a startlingly white building, charmed to be bigger on the inside than the out. Apparation wards, similar to the ones at Hogwarts, had been cast on it. Hermione slowly walked up the steps and inside the Ministry. As always, the reception area was busy with witches and wizards rushing back and forth. 

Hermione stepped nervously up to the reception desk and caught the attention of a frazzled clerk. "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. I was…" 

"Ah, yes, Ms. Granger. The Minister is expecting you. Wand please." Hermione handed it over, ignoring her niggling feeling of apprehension at doing so. 

The witch muttered "Recondo Virga Granger" and Hermione's wand disappeared from her hand. "Ms. Granger, you may take that levivator over there to the Minister's personal office. I hope you have a pleasant stay at the Ministry." 

"Thank you," Hermione said, but the witch had already turned to help another visitor. She slowly walked over the levivator indicated. Two Aurors stood outside it. The one on the right coughed to get her attention. "Ms. Granger? Would you mind submitting to the Scan?" 

Although she really had no choice if she wanted to see the Minister, Hermione nodded and was handed a small globe that appeared to be made of yellow glass. The Auror on the left wore glasses with yellow lenses. He looked at her briefly and nodded. "She's clean." 

"Please hold the Scan Stone until the levivator reaches the Minister's office, Ms. Granger. You may then hand it to the secretary there." The Auror then punched the call button and the doors slid open automatically. 

The levivators were something that Hermione found somewhat amusing. The looked and acted like the mechanical elevators of the muggle world. However, if one were to look in the levivator shaft, there would be no cables, no gears. The levivator cabin magically lifted itself up and down without any visible help and could easily be enchanted to move sideways, diagonally, or in any other direction desired. There was even speculation that they could be enchanted to enter other worlds or dimensions. 

Another Auror stood in the levivator, also wearing glasses of yellow. She glanced briefly at Hermione, and then allowed the doors to close. The cabin ascended with incredible speed; in all too short a time it came to a halt and the doors opened. Reluctantly, Hermione exited and entered the office suite of the Minister of Magic. 

There were no other visitors in the waiting room, only a bored-looking wizard behind a desk. "Hermione Granger?" he asked, scarcely looking at her as he held out his hand for the Scan Stone. Hermione nodded curtly as she handed it over. The wizard promptly then pointed to a grandiose set of wood-carved doors. "They're waiting for you in there." 

Hermione hesitated. "I assume that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley have already arrived?" 

He sighed. "Didn't you hear me? Of course they're already here. They're both waiting with the Minister for you." 

Hermione still stood in place, looking at the doors and hearing the frantic beating of her heart. 

"Do you need a swift kick to help you inside?" 

Shooting a glare at the wizard, Hermione took in a quick breath. _This is it._ Gathering up her resolve, Hermione forced herself forward and pushed the doors open. 

The office was huge. She quickly saw Fudge sitting idly behind his rich cherry wood desk. Behind him were two large windows that overlooked the front of the Ministry, framed with dark purple curtains. In front of the desk she saw Ron and Harry seated in two of the three chairs provided. Both turned at the sound of the opening door and she had her first full look at them in three years. 

Ron looked very odd. He wore dark blue formal robes. Always tall and skinny, his eyes were still a deep blue, his face still freckled. His hair, however, had radically changed since Hermione had seen him last. Instead of the Weasley wild red, his had darkened to a deep auburn. It almost didn't seem like Ron without the vibrant mop of red. 

Harry, if it could be believed, looked even odder. He had grown taller, although not quite as tall as Ron, and skinnier as well. His black wizard robes were quite worn and patched. And it seemed as if some of the rumors were true; his black hair had been recently shaved and slowly was growing back in. He had also started a small, horrible goatee. But his eyes were the strangest, even stranger than Ron's hair. Instead of the brilliant emerald, they had become a washed out pale lime. 

The scar, a recognizable Harry Potter feature, was still there. 

As she stood there staring at them Hermione thought, _How did these changes come about? Were they a result of destroying Voldemort? Do I look as strange to them as they look to me?_

Fudge coughed, jerking Hermione out of her thoughts. "Hermione? Would you like to sit down?" 

With an effort she tore her eyes away and nodded to Fudge, then took the remaining chair. Predictably Harry and Ron had sat as far apart from each other as possible, leaving only the middle one open. She sat down, keeping eyes carefully forward. 

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, harrumphed and looked down at the nonexistent papers on his desk. "As you already know, I have called you here today for a very important reason. Let me first say that I'm glad that everyone could come." 

"When are we going to be done?" snapped Ron. "I have a meeting to get to." His voice had deepened a bit during the years but still held that sarcastic, stinging quality. 

Fudge smiled ingratiatingly. "Ronald, we'll be done as soon as we can. If you need to orb or owl someone to tell them you'll miss the your meeting, you're welcome to do so at any time. Do I need to excuse you right now?" 

Ron sighed impatiently. "No, It can wait." 

"Well, then, I'll continue. You three are here because, recently, there has been a string of murders. At first they were all thought to be unconnected but recent events have shown otherwise. It has become quite clear that not only were they committed by the same person, but that the person has been copying the many murders of the late Tom Riddle." 

Harry snorted. "This isn't a surprise. Others have copied him before now, haven't they?" Harry's voice, as opposed to Ron's, had developed a hissing quality. It was softer and more sibilant. 

Fudge nodded. "Quite right, Harry. There _have_ been wizards in the past three years who have tried to borrow from Mr. Riddle's…notoriety. However, those killings were not widespread and the murderers were caught quite quickly. The Aurors In Charge for this case have informed me that we're dealing with someone a bit more dangerous." 

Hermione leaned forward, intrigued despite herself. "Dangerous? How so?" 

"You will find out shortly, Hermione. Ms. Silvers and Mr. Quentin, from the Wizard Bureau of Investigation, Department of the Magical Law Enforcement, will inform you about the situation. They are infinitely more informed of the details than I am." Fudge laced his fingers together. "As the AIC, they want you to re-testify about the Downfall. The three of you were not only instrumental in bringing it about but are also the only living witnesses." 

"Don't you have transcripts, or records, or something? I already went through all that three years ago!" Ron said, shifting his weight in his chair. 

"We do Ronald. However, Ms. Silvers and Mr. Quentin were most insistent that they hear the account first-hand and be able to ask questions." 

Hermione sat silent. Not only would she have to go through the whole nasty ordeal again, she had to do so with both Ron and Harry around. _I would do almost anything to escape this situation._

"The WBI is fully aware that you will have to miss work or engagements to accommodate their wishes," continued Fudge. "They are fully prepared to reimburse you generously for your time spent here. One galleon per hour will be transferred to your Gringott's account. If you have problems with this amount, please ask either Mr. Quentin or Ms. Silvers and they will do what they can. 

"That is all for now. As Minister, I appreciate your cooperation. I believe that Mrs. Silvers and Mr. Quentin are ready for you. If you'll wait outside, I'll contact them." 

Fudge sat there obviously waiting for them to leave. Hermione slowly stood up and left the room with Harry and Ron behind her. The waiting room outside was empty except for the secretary wizard, who looked at them in interest as Hermione, Ron, and Harry gazed at each other uneasily. The silence quickly became unbearable. Finally, Hermione couldn't stand it; even if they weren't best friends anymore, they could still converse politely. She opened her mouth and said the first thing that popped in her mind. 

"So how have you two been?" _Oh bloody hell, that sounds pathetic._

Harry stared at her, one black eyebrow raised. "How have we been? What sort of question is that? I'm surprised that one was chosen over 'How is the weather?', which is even more trite." 

"You're such a brilliant conversationalist, Granger." Ron said sarcastically, crossing his arms. "Honestly, someone with as much worthless knowledge as you should be able to come up with something better." 

Hermione took a step backwards, her fingers itching for her wand. _Reason number one why the Ministry confiscates them._ "Well, nobody else was saying anything. Did you want to stand in uncomfortable silence? We could at least be civil!" 

Ron snorted. "Oh, civil? We were supposed to be civil? Terribly sorry, I must have missed that memo. Sarcastic and bitter will just have to do." 

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron. "You know, she _does_ have a point. You don't have to be so nasty." 

"Nasty? You want to know what's nasty? Traitors with shaved heads! Were you featured in the fashion section of 'Betrayer's Weekly'?" 

"I don't think there's such a publication," piped up the reception wizard, who was watching the exchange with a big grin on his face. 

"Oh, sod off!" Harry snapped. 

"Are we interrupting something?" 

Hermione whipped around to see a man and woman had arrived at the waiting room. They both wore black robes with Auror badges on the left breast. 

The man gave a small smile when he saw he had their attention. He looked approximately thirty and had thinning blond hair and dark brown eyes. "Are you done? I had the impression that Mr. Weasley was under a time constraint. If not, we can wait for you three to stop bickering like small children." 

Embarrassed, Hermione shook her head. "No, we're done…discussing." Ron muttered under his breath behind her but didn't argue. 

"How lovely for us," said the woman with a completely straight face. She had glossy black hair cut into a short pageboy style and serious gray eyes. "Would you please follow?" 

Both Aurors turned on their heels and re-entered the open levivator. Hermione followed with Harry behind her and Ron last. There was relative silence as they rode it back down to the reception area. After arriving, Ms. Silvers and Mr. Quentin ushered them into a separate levivator that went back up a few floors. When the door slid open, they exited into a long hall with lots of doors. 

"Conference rooms," Ms. Silvers said shortly. They all walked down the hallway for a while until she pulled the door open to one. "Please enter." 

The conference room was relatively bare, lit by the magical candles on the walls. A circular table with five chairs took up half the room. Nobody else was there. 

All five sat. Hermione managed to get a seat between the Auror witch and Harry. While she didn't want to sit next to either of them, Harry seemed to be acting slightly more polite. Ron sat on the left of Harry, and Mr. Quentin sat to the right of Ms. Silvers. Because of the table's shape, the Aurors ended up facing the trio. The Aurors In Charge then pulled out identical Quick-Quotes Quills and notepads. Laying both on the table, the quills sprang up at attention on the notepads waiting to take notes. 

Ms. Silvers politely coughed and the quills began to scribble. "I assume that you have all worked it out that I am AIC Guinevere Silvers and this is AIC Thomas Quentin. We have been assigned by the WBI as Aurors In Charge of this case regarding the recent rash of killings. As I'm sure the Minister told you, we strongly suspect that the murderer is a copycat. Specifically, the murderer is imitating the lamentable actions of Tom Riddle." 

Hermione furrowed her brow. "The Minister wouldn't tell us why you suspected a murderer was copying Voldemort. Could you explain, perhaps?" 

Ms. Silvers looked significantly at her partner. Mr. Quentin cleared his throat. "Well, six weeks ago the three unicorns in the 'Magical Cool Creatures' Zoo were brutally killed and drained of all their blood. Not long after that, there were the Petrified cases. Six people were attacked by what we determined to be the basilisk stare. Unfortunately, the Mandrake Potion didn't have the desired effect. They were unPetrified but died immediately upon revivification. Clearly someone had gone to great lengths to make the victims _look_ as if they'd been Petrified by a basilisk. 

"Next, there were a couple more deaths in which the Mediwizards have ascertained that the Unforgivable Curse 'Avada Kedavra' was used. However what distinguished these deaths was the fact that the victims were found dead with their right hands chopped off. And recently, the Trevelin family were murdered by means of the Burning Potion." 

Hermione blinked. "I see. The unicorn in the Forbidden was killed our first year at Hogwarts. And then I and others were petrified my second year. Cedric died through Avada Kedavra our fourth year, although his hand was certainly not chopped off. And fifth year, all of Hogwarts was nearly poisoned with the Burning Potion. If Crabbe hadn't been greedy and drank the Butterbeer before everyone else…although no one determined if the attempted poisoning was Voldemort's actions or someone else's." 

Ms. Silvers nodded. "Until recently we did not associate all the events with one another. They were treated as separate cases before, but after the 'Avada Kedavra' victims, the research department suggested they might be connected. After the Trevelin deaths, it was confirmed." 

"We want to talk to you three. Now that we have established a pattern, we're hoping to catch the murderer before the next killing, but there's the possibility that the murderer could continue the pattern right through to the Downfall. We therefore want to hear from you three firsthand how the Downfall came about," finished Mr. Quentin, "so we can understand it and, one can hope, prevent it." 

Harry coughed. "Aren't we in danger then? Won't the murderer try to capture us? And kill us? Not that I'm worried," he said calmly, "but I'd rather know when someone is out to murder me." 

Ms. Silvers nodded slowly. "Quite right, Mr. Potter, you three are all in danger. That's why we want to restrict you to the Ministry grounds." 

"What?" Ron sat up in alarm. "You can't do that. I have a job and responsibilities. You can't keep me here at the Ministry against my will." 

Leaning back in her chair, Ms. Silvers glared at Ron. "You're quite right Mr. Weasley. We _want_ to restrict you three to the Ministry but we can only _request_ that you stay on the grounds. Are you satisfied?" Ron nodded curtly. "But that's beside the point. Right now, we request each of you to recount your experiences of the Downfall so that we might better understand the events that happened. Who would like to go first?" 

Nobody said anything. Hermione stared at the table and had the suspicion that both Ron and Harry were doing the same. 

Ms. Silvers sighed. "Why don't we start with Mr. Potter? I understand that you were absolutely necessary in the plan to bring about the Downfall, weren't you?" 

Hermione looked up to see Harry nod slowly. "Yes. Voldemort had my blood in his veins and Dumbledore was able to use that to devise a spell that would kill him. The 'Destructius' spell." 

Mr. Quentin smiled and leaned forward. "Mr. Potter, why don't you start from when you, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger left Hogwarts to go to Voldemort?" 

Harry took a deep breath and focused his eyes on the farthest wall. "There isn't much to say. We each left with a small backpack. We didn't need much, just some food and ourselves. About halfway to the castle, we split up. Since it was assumed that Voldemort's castle was an exact copy of Hogwarts, we planned on meeting back up in one of the towers." 

"Why exactly did you decide to separate?" asked Ms. Silvers. 

Well, see, we were each carrying quite a bit of power on us. Not only did we have the Iunctura bond, but also a very potent spell to destroy a powerful wizard. Together, it was very easy for anyone to spot us if they could read power signatures. Apart, we were less noticeable. It seemed the best way to go about it at the time," Harry ended bitterly. 

"I see. What happened after you split up?" 

"Well," swallowed Harry, "I went on for a time alone. I got within viewing distance of the castle when Dementors and Death Eaters ambushed me. Stupid of me, really, they were obviously on watch for some sort of attack. They knocked me out and when I woke up, I was in a locked room. 

"After awhile, Voldemort came to see me. He…he wanted to know where Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley were supposed to be. He said if I didn't tell him, he would curse me to act insane. In my mind I would be fine, but everyone else would think I wasn't. I would be locked in my mind, in a sense." 

"Yes, the 'Dementis' curse, a spell we didn't know about until your return from the castle. Apparently the Longbottoms and several others were afflicted with it. Now, how did you respond to Mr. Riddle's proposition?" 

Harry looked at the table again, wringing his hands nervously. "I…er…I told him to jump in a lake. He grabbed me and cast the curse." 

"And?" 

Harry mumbled, "Before it could affect me completely, I told him where Hermione and Ron were supposed to meet me and he lifted it. Only…" Harry stopped there, not willing to say anything else. 

"Mr. Potter, are you all right?" 

"Oh, he's just brilliant," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Who wouldn't want to remember a traumatic experience?" 

"Mr. Weasley, please be silent!" Mr. Quentin turned back to Harry. "Mr. Potter, can you go on?" 

Harry shook his head. "I'd rather not." 

"Well," said Ms. Silvers, "since Mr. Weasley seems outspoken right now, why doesn't he go next?" 

Ron snorted, leaning back in his chair. "I don't see what good it'll do. My story is remarkably similar to Potter's. We split up; I got jumped and stuck in a room. Voldemort came wanting information, and I told him he was an ugly git. He cast that bloody Dementis curse and I spilled the beans. If you want to write my story, I'm charging a hundred galleons an hour." 

Ms. Silvers ignored Ron's last remark. "Mr. Weasley, what happened after you told Voldemort where Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter were?" 

Ron looked at the table and was quiet for a second. "Well, Voldemort then told me that he already had Granger and Potter. He told me that I had betrayed them for nothing and they had betrayed me as well. It wasn't a nice feeling." 

"Mr. Weasley, I'm not interested in feelings. Why would you believe him when Voldemort has no cause to tell the truth?" 

"Did he have a reason to lie? Not that it mattered, I still…" Ron stopped and scowled at the table. "Listen, I wasn't thinking logically at the time. I just believed him and as it turned out, he was telling the truth." 

"What happened next, Mr. Weasley?" 

Ron glared at Ms. Silvers. "Voldemort left me in my room in a stupor until a Death Eater came and got me. I really don't know what happened after that, I wasn't aware of anything. Anything that I do know from that point on, I read from the papers. You should ask know-it-all Granger about Voldemort's plans since The Boy Who Turned Traitor won't talk." 

Harry flinched. "Listen, _Ronald,_ I wasn't the only one who talked. There are two others in this room and you're one of them!" 

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley! Please be silent!" After glaring at them, Ms. Silvers turned to Hermione. "Ms. Granger, what happened after you were brought to the Great Hall?" 

Hermione swallowed. "I remember that Voldemort began to spout a lot of nonsense. He said that it was time for power and that he had broken us all. He…he planned to kill Harry, which would open up a lot of power to him. He was going to kill Ron and me, so that he could control the influx of power. It seemed as if he thought this power was deserved to him and the Death Eaters. I know that he mentioned dominating the world." 

"Obviously, he didn't get that power. What was happening while Voldemort was talking?" 

"Uh, well, I was still…numb. From the Dementis curse and the shock of…" Hermione waved her hand and Mr. Quentin nodded for her to go on. "But I still was aware that Voldemort had to be stopped. I couldn't move much, didn't want to move, but I managed to…catch Harry's eyes." 

"Mr. Potter, is that true?" 

Harry nodded, his eyes stuck on the table. 

"Ms. Granger?" 

"Er, at this point, Voldemort pulled out a sort of dagger." 

"What did it look like?" asked Mr. Quentin. 

"Well, it was silver. I think it had a black handle. And the blade wasn't straight, it was in a zigzag pattern." 

Ms. Silvers stopped her Quick-Quotes Quill for a moment and pushed it and the notepad over to Hermione. "Could you draw it Ms. Granger?" Hermione did so. Ms. Silvers pulled the parchment back and studied it for a moment. "What happened next?" 

"Harry jumped to the side. I ran forward and held Voldemort's arm, stopping him from slashing down with his knife. Harry then grabbed Ron and me and both of us shouted the trigger words," said Hermione in a tremendous rush. 

"Ah. I see. And then what happened?" 

Hermione looked down at the table, unwilling to look into Ms. Silvers' penetrating eyes. "All I remember is a sort of fire springing up and Voldemort exploding all over us. I passed out and when I woke up, I was at St. Mungo's." 

Ms. Silvers and Mr. Quentin looked at each other in exasperation. Then, for the next couple of hours, Hermione, Ron, and Harry were subjected to never ending questions on the details of what happened. How exactly they were captured, what they felt when the Dementis curse was put on them, why they felt like Voldemort was telling them the truth when he threatened them. Their most penetrating questions were on how Harry and Hermione were able to communicate with each other through their eyes. This point seemed to hold a fascination for both of the Aurors. 

"So you asked him to care about things through your eyes? And he responded?" 

Hermione gritted her teeth. "It appears so. Why don't you ask Mr. Potter?" 

"Mr. Potter? Did you understand what Hermione was thinking at you?" 

Harry nodded slowly. "I think it was an effect of the Iunctura bond. She wanted me to kill Voldemort. I was certain of that much." 

"Ms. Weasley," said Mr. Quentin, "did you not hear this exchange? You were still under the influence of the Iunctura bond as well." 

"I don't remember hearing anything," admitted Ron moodily. "But I don't think I was up to hearing, though. Blocked inside." 

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter, what made both of you suddenly care about the situation you were in?" 

Both Harry and Hermione were silent at that question. "Well?" said Ms. Silvers impatiently. "Are you both deaf? What made you suddenly care?" 

"I don't know," said Hermione quietly. "I just did." 

"You mean in three years, you never asked yourself how you managed to pull yourself out of your apathy? I find that hard to believe," said Mr. Quentin, shaking his head. 

Ron sat up in his seat. "I can answer it for you if you're in such a bother about it." 

Mr. Quentin swiveled in his chair and looked at Ron. "Enlighten us, Mr. Weasley. I'm eager to hear your hypothesis." 

Ron shrugged. "Granger has always had a huge sense of responsibility. That's what prompted her to do something in the first place. While Potter doesn't normally feel much responsibility, he always has where Voldemort is concerned, " Ron continued with a small smile, "Furthermore, he liked her at the time and would have kissed a Blast-Ended Skrewt if she asked him to." 

"Excuse me?" said Hermione, staring at Ron. 

"Ron!" Harry hissed, pushing back in his chair. "What the bloody…" 

Ron snickered. "Eh, what's got you all bothered, Potter. It was three years ago. Shouldn't she know?" 

Hermione turned to Harry. "You liked me? _Me?_" 

He grimaced. "Yes! No! I mean," he finally sighed, "I did at the time." 

"Why didn't you ever _tell_ me?" 

He shrugged. "Well…" 

"Charming as this insight is, can we please get back to the matter at hand?" Ms. Silvers interjected. "Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, is Mr. Weasley correct? Was a feeling of responsibility and affection the reason?" 

"Maybe. I still don't know," mumbled Hermione, much put out. 

Harry met Hermione's eyes. "He was wrong about Hermione. At that point, I didn't like her anymore," said Harry, enunciating each word. Hermione stiffened in anger and ripped her gaze away. 

Mr. Quentin looked at his watch. "Gwen, I think we need to cut this short for now. We have that briefing…" 

Ms. Silvers looked at her watch as well and sighed. She glared seriously at the three of them. "We still have more questions to ask. However, we don't have any more time for those today. Please report here again tomorrow at nine o'clock." 

Ron groaned. "What? More questions? Are all Aurors so talkative?" 

"Mr. Weasley," snapped Ms. Silvers, "I'm quite tired of hearing your complaints. Yes, we have more questions. We need to learn as much about the Downfall as possible. Rest assured, you're not the only ones we're questioning. We're also talking to many Hogwarts students who were in the school during the time. We're trying to figure out where the murderer will strike and how before it actually happens. If you cooperate, we can probably finish tomorrow." 

Hermione grumbled, but nodded. "Can we go, then?" 

"Well, there is the matter of housing." Ms. Silvers held up a hand to forestall the outburst from Ron. "That is, if you wish to be under the protection of the Ministry. Of course, if you do turn the offer down, you won't be able to blame the Ministry later if you're captured and tortured. Do any of you wish to take advantage of the Ministry's generous proposition?" 

Hermione shook her head, along with Ron. Harry coughed. "I need some housing. I'm staying in the Leaky Cauldron but won't say no to some free boarding." 

"Well then, Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley are free to leave. Don't forget, be here tomorrow at nine sharp!" 

Relieved, Hermione got up and practically ran for the door. She escaped out into the hallway, Ron right behind her. Ignoring him, Hermione broke into a brisk walk towards the levivator. 

Upon arriving, she promptly pushed the call button. Ron came to a halt next to her and they both stood awkwardly for a moment. Hermione struggled for something neutral to say. 

"So, what meeting are you going to?" 

Ron looked at her quickly. "One with George and Fred." When Hermione cast him a puzzled glance, he sighed. "Oh, really Hermione, do you keep your head in the sand? Remember that George and Fred started Weasley's Wizard Wheezes? Well, I'm their head salesman." 

"Oh." Hermione paused, taking in this new information. "So, the company is doing well then? Even though the economy is hellish?" 

He nodded his head. "I mean things aren't fantastic. We've had to lay off several production wizards because not as many of our clients are buying merchandise and the sales department is shrinking, but we're a darn sight better than some." 

"Well, that's good." The levivator's doors slid open. Ron and Hermione entered and were silent as they traveled back to the main lobby. 

Once there, Hermione got her wand back (the witch muttered 'Usurpo Virga Granger' and it appeared with a little 'pop') and left the Ministry building without saying anything more to Ron. Emerging out into the day, Hermione stuffed her wand into the robe's pockets and Apparated away.   
  



	4. Disappointments

A/N: You might see some improvements spelling, grammer, or story-wise in this chapter and the updated chapter three. This is due to Haggridd, my new beta-reader. He is awesome beyond imagination, which I don't tell him enough! 

Thanks to Arianna Spellcaster, minx, Fallen Darkness, ~Chupacabra~, and Hydra a.k.a Serpentense for your kind words. Extra thanks to minx, Fallen Darkness, ~Chupacabra~, and Hydra a.k.a. Serpentense for reviewing more than one chapter. You guys are truly saints. 

To everyone: Sorry it took awhile to get this out. I went back and redid Chapter Three. Any feedback is greatly appreciated. If you're not reading this on ff.net, please email all suggestions to reanna20@yahoo.com. I hope you enjoy this installment! 

What A Good Girl - Chapter 4: Disappointments 

Hermione hurled herself into the Interrogation Room the next morning without even making an attempt to appear calm. She slammed the door with such force that it bounced back open, startling everyone else who were already there. 

"I hope you're both very happy," snapped Hermione, glaring at Mr. Quentin and Ms. Silvers. "I had the chance for a job interview today. It was for a research position, a position I had a good chance at getting. But I had to turn the interview _down_ because I had to come _here_ and answer your bloody questions about something that happened over _three years ago!_" 

Ms. Silvers' eyes narrowed in irritation. "Ms. Granger, we have already gone over this issue. The Ministry will compensate you for any time spent here…" 

"And just how long is that compensation likely to last?" Hermione interrupted, crossing her arms in a gesture of defiance. "A day? A week? Unlikely longer. A job is infinitely more desirable than _compensation._" 

Mr. Quentin held out a calming hand. "Ms. Granger, if you are in financial troubles, the Ministry will…" 

"Will do what, exactly? Give me a job? Every day the economy is diving lower and lower. Your precious Ministry won't do a blessed thing!" Hermione snarled at both of them. "You don't understand. That interview is a chance, and I had to give up that chance because you are too incompetent to catch a murderer!" 

"Oh, come off it Hermione!" Ron rolled his eyes in disgust. "It's just an interview. Couldn't you have rescheduled it?" 

Hermione stared at Ron, her gut clenching in frustration, her gaze gone cold. "That's just what I tried to do, _Mister Weasley._ After our happy reunion here at the Ministry, I had errands to do. I got back home to find an owl waiting for me, with a message about the interview. I spent all last evening Apparating _everywhere,_ trying to find the contact to reschedule. When I finally caught up with the witch, it was at her home, _Mister Weasley._ She told me most emphatically that there were plenty of others who would want my interview slot, and that they couldn't see fit to change their arrangements to accommodate me. So...Ron...No...Interview!" Hermione enunciated each word carefully and clearly. "It wasn't in my power to reschedule. Not that you would understand with your _family_ sinecure!" 

Ron flushed at the insult. "Well, I hardly think you would have got the position anyway. I don't know anyone in the market for a traitor -- even if she is a boring, brainy, know-it-all!" 

Hermione gaped at Ron. _That lousy worthless no-good git…_Thoroughly fed up, she gave a wordless shriek and whirled around. Without a second thought, she was out of the room and walking briskly down the hallway. 

A moment later she heard the door open behind her. Knowing that it had to be one of the Aurors, Hermione broke into a run. If she could reach the levivator… 

"Petrificus Totalus!" 

Hermione's arms and legs sprang together and she fell flat on her face, skidding from the momentum. Unable to move a muscle, she fumed at the sound of the footsteps slowly approaching. 

"If I remove the body-bind, Ms. Granger, will you promise not to run off?" 

Hermione gritted her teeth. _If only I had my wand, there would be no such promises._ "Fine. I won't run," she spat after a moment. 

AIC Silvers raised her wand and chanted, "Finite Incantatem!" 

As the spell evaporated, Hermione levered herself into a sitting position, her back against the corridor wall. Ignoring the Ministry witch, she sat with no intention of moving. 

Ms. Silvers stood stiffly, her voice now only slightly less rigid. "Ms. Granger, will you please come back to the room now?" 

"No," mumbled Hermione, burying her head into her arms. "I don't feel like spending any more time with two people who loathe me. I don't feel like trying again to answer questions I couldn't answer three years ago. I don't feel like remembering a time that I wish I could forget. No Ms. Silvers, I will not. I feel like either going back to my flat, or sitting here on the floor. Since you won't allow me to do the former, I'll do the latter." 

The Auror witch hesitated. "Ms. Granger, there will be other interviews. This is hardly a reason to throw a tantrum." 

Hermione laughed roughly. "Your compassion is overwhelming. I couldn't care less what you think. You're not the one who has been trying to find a job for two months without success. Your bank account at Gringott's hasn't been dwindling with every day. You don't have a worried mother calling all the time to find out whether you have a job yet, Ms. Silvers!" 

"I'm sorry Ms. Granger, you're correct on all points." Ms. Silvers lowered herself to the floor to sit beside Hermione. " I shouldn't try and make the situation less than it is. But," she continued, "there is a very dangerous wizard at large right now, at this very moment, whom I have to try and find. If I don't, more people may die. You're someone who can help me -- help us -- know the murderer better." 

"As I said before, I don't care," Hermione said to her knees. "These hypothetical people weren't at the Downfall. They didn't - they weren't…" Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I've done my duty to the wizarding world. They can go stuff it." 

"Ms. Granger, please look at me." Reluctant, Hermione opened her eyes and peered into Ms. Silvers' gray ones, which looked very, very weary. "I am asking you to cooperate. I would rather not have to force you back into that room. I don't want to make this process more painful than it has to be. I want to catch a murderer. I'm asking the witch whose sense of duty once saved the wizarding world to help one more time. I know that you are upset. I know you were insulted. I ask you to ignore that. Will you?" 

Hermione bit her lip. _Bloody Hell! Not again! Not…again. I've done enough. All I want is quiet and security. Surely defeating an evil wizard is worth that much!_ But Hermione knew, she knew, that she couldn't sit on the floor in a corridor of the Ministry of Magic forever -- and she didn't want to be hauled bodily back into the Interrogation Room. _As always, I'll give in…_

"Fine." Hermione surged to her feet, looking down at the Auror with her hands on her hips. "This is it, this is the last time. Finish your questions today." 

After Ms. Silvers stood up, they both returned to the room. Hermione entered to find herself under the inspection of three sets of eyes. Those of Mr. Quentin looked indifferent, while Harry's eyes looked speculative, and Ron's, slightly guilty. Deciding to ignore them, Hermione just lifted her chin and took her seat without saying a word. 

After Ms. Silvers settled herself and activated the Quick-Quotes Quill, her colleague cleared his throat. "We have a few more questions. We are particularly interested in this ritual that the late Tom Riddle attempted to perform. Ms. Granger, you have state that Mr. Potter was meant to release a flood of power, while you and Mr. Weasley were to help channel that power. Could you possibly elaborate?" 

Before Hermione could say that she didn't know anything more, an orb slowly materialized over the middle of the table. 

"What the…" Mr. Quentin frowned as a younger man's face appeared in it. "What is it?" 

The man in the orb sighed. "We're having some trouble." 

"Trouble?" Ms. Silvers pounced on the remark, her voice taking on an edge. "Would you care to be more specific?" 

"The witness is not cooperating. He's asking for the Aurors in charge. He refuses to say a word until one of you two come." 

Ms. Silvers swore softly. "Mr. Malfoy, if for once you would stop being difficult…" She pushed her chair quickly back and stood up. "I'm coming directly." The orb dissipated and Ms. Silvers turned to her partner. "Thomas, I'm going to go and deal with that slimy git -- unless, of course, you would rather take care of the matter?" 

Mr. Quentin shook his head, a knowing smile playing about his lips. "Are you kidding, Gwen? 

No, the pleasure is all yours. Have fun." She snorted back. "As much fun as tackling a mountain troll." 

Ms. Silvers fixed her attention upon the trio. "Ms. Granger. Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley. If you don't mind." She nodded to each of them in turn, and then swiftly left the room. Hermione turned back to see Mr. Quentin looking at her pleasantly. 

"The spell, Ms. Granger?" 

* * * *

Hermione sighed and shook her head in frustration. "Mr. Quentin, I tell you once again, I have no idea where the Death Eaters went after Voldemort died. I passed out after releasing the Iunctura Spell. When next I awoke, I was at St. Mungo's." 

With a little cough, the Ministry wizard looked at his notes. "Mr. Potter? You have any idea?" 

Harry raised his head off of the table. "No," was his succinct answer. 

"Mr. Weasley?" 

Ron gave an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. "Considering you've asked this question twice before, you would hardly expect a different answer this time. As I told you before, I was out of it before the spell was cast, so I have no idea where they went. Is this question even relevant? I was under the impression they all burned in the same fire that destroyed Vol -- You-Know-Who. At least, that's what the papers and Wizarding Wireless reported." 

Upon hearing this, Mr. Quentin's expression became slightly uneasy. "Well, we're not sure. By the time the Aurors reached Riddle's Great Hall, there were quite a few burnt bodies, and lots of ash. Since none of you know how many Death Eaters were present, we cannot determine whether any survived." He gestured with his wand and the Quick-Quotes Quill stopped writing and fell to the table. "We have no more questions at this time. We greatly appreciate your…patience and cooperation. Your presence at the Ministry is no longer required. Unless…" Mr. Quentin added, giving them all a look, "Unless you want to take advantage of the Ministry's protection and remain here. The murderer has not been apprehended. Our offer is still open." 

Harry stood and shook his head. "No. I need to be getting back, I've been gone long enough." 

_I wonder where he lives now? He was rooming at the Leaky Cauldron; surely not in London, then._ Though curious about Harry, Hermione said only, "I'd rather go back to my flat. I still need to find a job and it'll be easier searching from home." 

Ron snorted. "I hardly want to stay here a moment longer. So sorry Mr. Quentin. It seems that you've got no takers; and your Ministry's offer was 'So Appealing'." 

The Auror shrugged. "I didn't think so. Well, you are all free to leave." 

Eager to get away, Hermione exited with room with Harry and Ron. All three walked to the levivator; Ron anxiously ran ahead to activate it. They stood waiting, in nervous silence, until it arrived. 

Up in the reception area, Hermione retrieved her wand. Finished and free to go, she hesitated. While she had no desire to be friends with Harry or Ron again, she felt she could not just leave without saying goodbye. She stood there awkwardly until Harry finished at the desk and turned around to see her. 

"Good to see you Hermione. Take care." With those words, Harry quickly strode out the Ministry's front doors and vanished. 

"You too," she said lamely at his swiftly retreating back. Hermione was then faintly surprised to see Ron staring after Harry with a hurt look in his eyes. He noticed her concerned look and scowled. "Have a nice life, Hermione." Sarcasm dripped from each word. "Have fun just studying forever." Frowning, he pushed past her and left. 

_Good riddance._ Hermione gripped her wand and walked out as well. 

* * * *

Hermione was poring over want ads one afternoon a few days later, when someone knocked at her door. Wondering whether she had forgot her mum was due for a visit, she opened the door cautiously and stuck her head out. She caught a quick glimpse at a mane of shocking red hair as her visitor squeezed through the open crack and flung her arms around her. 

"Hermione!" 

"Ms. Weasley?" 

Virginia Weasley pulled back for Hermione to see her twinkling brown eyes and the dusting of freckles on her face. She wore indigo blue robes and a broad smile. "As if you could mistake me for anyone else! Surely you couldn't confuse me with my mother?" she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. 

Laughing weakly, Hermione ushered Ginny Weasley into her flat. Fortunately she had been in the cleaning frame of mind the day before; the place was fairly neat. After being reassured that Ginny didn't want anything to drink, they sat down on the small couch. "So, Ginny," she temporized, "What brings you here?" 

The witch laughed. "Hermione, don't sound so nervous! I just came to visit. It's been, what, at least a year! I would have come by long before now if my job didn't keep me so busy." 

"Oh! Right. You do…you work for…" 

"Hermione! How could you forget?" Ginny winked. "Don't worry, you're not alone. Mum forgets what I do all the time-- or would like to. I'm in the theatre, remember?" 

"Oh, that's right! Stage manager -- is that it?" 

"Spot on! See, you _do_ remember! It doesn't pay much but it keeps me happier than working for Fred and George ever did -- and keeps me busier too. I was managing a production of 'The Winter's Tale' for the Obscurus theatre. Somehow, it reminded me of you." Ginny grinned. "So, on my first free day in months, I looked you up, and here I am! You should consider yourself lucky!" 

"I…I am. It _is_ good to see you again." Hermione was surprised to realize that she really meant it. 

"What about you Hermione? Still doing that R & D job for the Cleansweep firm?" 

"No, that ended some time ago. I'm between assignments right now. The economy and all. I've been searching for something steady the past few months." Hermione summoned up a weak smile. "It hasn't exactly been a fruitful search." 

Instantly, Ginny's expression became serious. "Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry! You're all right -- financially, I mean? I don't make much but if things are going badly…" 

Hermione quickly cut her off. "I'm fine Ginny. My parents have offered to help out if things get too bad. Besides I have some interviews…really soon." Her voice faltered. She was lying through her teeth. "So. Why don't you tell me all about the glamorous world of the wizarding theatre!" 

"Well, it's hardly glamorous backstage. That's where I spend most of my time. Obscurus theatre is a small house. It only seats a hundred, but the repertoire is pretty eclectic. The Powers-That-Be have no qualms with showing both muggle and wizarding plays. That play by the muggle Shakespeare just finished its run, and "Quidditch Catastrophe!" by Matthew Sayre is now in production." Ginny was grinning again. "Quite a good play actually -- and challenging! No less than _ten_ Illuminati Charms that have to be cast at different times…" 

Hermione smiled and listened as Ginny went on excitedly about her job. Eventually she exhausted the subjects of magical lighting, set transfigurations, and the hang-ups of snippety actors. There was a slight pause as Ginny suddenly scrutinized Hermione. "I've blathered on long enough. What about you? Are you doing anything other than looking for a job?" 

"Well…" Hermione hesitated. "A few days ago I was at the Ministry of Magic." 

"Really? Why?" 

"There's a new murderer at large." Hermione twisted her hands. "He seems to be copying Voldemort's murders. The head Aurors wanted me to tell them more details about the…the Downfall." 

"That's new! I guess I need to get out from the theatre world more often to stay on top of what is happening in the Wizarding World." Ginny tilted her head significantly. "Did they question Harry and my flobberworm of a brother as well?" 

"Yes, they were there too." 

"And you haven't seen them since the Downfall, right?" 

"Right." 

"Oof, what a mess. You would _think_ that the Ministry would use more tact. If only I had known! I could've warned you that Ron hasn't become any more polite through the years. Well, at least he's happy working for Fred and George. Takes being head of Sales very seriously, he does. He's always running off and meeting with any vendor that might want to stock magical jokes." Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm sure having to go to the Ministry annoyed him royally. So how was it? Seeing them again, I mean? Or do you not want to talk about it?" 

"No, I'm fine really. It was just -- odd. I mean Ron's hair…" 

"Wasn't the signature Weasley red? Nobody mentions it much. It was normal when you three went off to fight Voldemort. When next I saw him at Mungo's, it has become dark auburn." Ginny shrugged. "The doctors thought that it was an aftereffect of that spell you three were carrying. I've gotten used to the look, though." 

"In my mind's eye, I pictured him at age seventeen. It was strange to see him suddenly twenty years old. Harry looked even stranger, if you can believe that." 

"How do you mean? I've heard nothing about him since the media feeding frenzy after the Downfall. Strike that. I've heard plenty of rumors but nothing reliable -- like he's gone crazy and shaved his head." 

"Well, the rumors are not entirely wrong. He _is_ nearly bald and has this hideous goatee. Oh! His eyes aren't emerald anymore. They are a very pale green color. But the scar is still there." 

Ginny's eyes widened. "Harry Potter without bright green eyes and tousled hair? That's like McGonagall without her spectacles!" She paused. "You know, this is the first time that we've talked about them. After the Downfall, I mean. Not that we had much chance before; we only saw each other three or four times! I never wanted to bring it up then. Ron…" She stopped abruptly and looked away. 

Hermione made a guess. "Your brother still refuses to talk about anything having to do with that night, with Harry, or with me?" 

"To put it lightly. If any of the family even _tries_ to bring something up he leaves. It doesn't matter where he is or what he's doing, he will flat-out leave. He puts up with questions about the ordeal from clients but he really doesn't answer them, either." Ginny sighed. "I guess I assumed the same about you." 

_She got it in one, there._ Hermione tried to change the subject. "I'm just glad it's all over and done with." _Touch wood._ "And that I'm finished being questioned by the Ministry." 

Ginny checked her watch. "Oh, bloody hell! I'm sorry, Hermione, but I have to go. I absolutely promised Mum that I would be at the Burrow in time to help make dinner. She's making all of us visit tonight." Ginny stood up hurriedly, then hesitated. "I'm sure Mum wouldn't mind at all if you came…" 

Hermione forced a smile. "That's all right. I'd much rather not see Mister-Ron-Head-of-Sales anytime soon, but thank you for offering." She continued to talk as she showed Ginny to the door. 

Ginny turned around in the hall. "Hermione, it really was nice to see you again. I don't think I ever told you…well, I'm grateful that you were so nice to me those years at Hogwarts. I regret that we lost contact with each other." Ginny looked earnestly into Hermione's eyes. "Could meet for lunch sometime next week? I'm sure I could squeeze it in somewhere between rehearsals and calming the egos of slighted actors!" 

"I'd like that," Hermione truthfully said, leaning on the doorframe. "Why don't you owl me with the particulars?" 

"Done!" She threw her arms around Hermione and gave her a tight hug. "Well, I'm off!" With a final smile, Ginny Disapparated. 

Closing the door slowly, Hermione wandered back into her flat. She had forgotten what a genuinely nice person Ginny was. They had been friends all throughout Hogwarts, but after the Downfall, Hermione hadn't much wanted to be in contact with anyone. So, their friendship had fallen to the wayside. _Maybe that could change now…_

* * * *

The next day started out very well. Hermione was awakened by the tapping of an owl at her window with a letter. It turned out to be an invitation from the firm Toil and Trouble, who made potions. They wanted her to come in for an interview! 

The interview itself went quite well. Hermione couldn't stop grinning as she Apparated back to her flat. With on continuous motion she flung her resume portfolio to the floor, kicked off her shoes, and flicked her wand at her little radio. The Wizard Wireless Network came on… 

"…This has been the latest is a sudden rash of murders. Ministry Spokeswizards won't confirm or deny whether any of the murders are related, nor will they say whether they have any suspects…" 

"Oh no!" Even as she groaned, a glowing orb appeared before her, the stern face of Ms. Silvers within. 

"Ms. Granger, we have immediate need of you at the Ministry. I suggest you pack a small suitcase. You might be here for awhile."   
  



	5. Containment

**Author's Note:** Wheee! Look, a fifth chapter! Amazing. Well, we're finally getting into the thick of things. Please review and tell me what you think. 

A great big THANK YOU to Haggridd, who is my beta reader. He is absolutely brilliant. A lot of credit belongs to him. 

* * * *

What A Good Girl - Chapter 5: Containment 

_"Record and play, after years of endless rewind  
Yesterday wasn't half as tough as this time  
This time isn't Hell,   
Last time, couldn't tell   
This mind wasn't well  
Next time, hope I'm..."  
- Barenaked Ladies, "Too Little Too Late"_  


Hermione's arrival at the Ministry was drastically different from her previous two. It was evening when she Apparated in the Apparation area at the foot of the Ministry steps. Clutching her suitcase, she climbed the steps and entered the building. The moment she pushed through the doors, three guards descended on her. 

"Pardon me, Ms. Granger, may we have your wand?" 

Grim-faced, Hermione handed it over without comment. While the guard took it to the reception desk, the other two kept her under constant observation. The blonde guard nodded to her. "We're under orders to take you to the Containment Dungeon. Follow us, if you please." 

Nodding, she fell in step behind the blonde wizard, with the brunette following her closely, Hermione's suitcase in hand. The quickly went to a levivator and went down -- and down, and down, and down -- much lower than she had when Ms. Silvers and Mr. Quentin had first questioned her. 

Finally, the door slid open and Hermione immediately saw why they called it the "Containment Dungeon". They _were_ in a dungeon; the corridor before was made of a coarse rock with candles on the walls lighting the way. It reminded her distantly of Snape and Potions class. Hermione and her two guards left the levivator and began to walk quickly along its many twists and turns, passing only the occasional Auror, who stopped them and asked the guards for some kind of password - each one different, as far as she could tell. Only then would the Auror allow them to resume their progress. 

Finally they stopped. "In here Ms. Granger" said the blonde, who pushed the door open. A little amazed by the security measures, Hermione entered. 

She stepped into a small anteroom, with another door at the far side, and two guards flanking it. At a severe metal table sat Guenivere Silvers, AIC, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion. She fixed those tired eyes on Hermione. Despite herself, Hermione felt pity for the witch. She looked as if she had been awake for several nights. 

"Ms. Granger, you are the second to last to arrive." Ms. Silvers gestured to a chair on the other side of the table, and nodded to Hermione's guards, who left the room. Hermione gingerly took her seat, quite certain she already knew what she was going to hear. 

"I assume that this isn't going to be just a quick visit," Hermione began, as she folded her hands in her lap. 

"Hardly. You are to remain here for now, Ms. Granger. Unfortunately, it is too dangerous for you to be out and about. This last murder escalated things a bit." Ms. Silvers smiled slightly. "The _Prophet_ has finally picked up that the past murders were connected, and will run the story in the morning edition. We want you in custody not only for your protection, since the murderer or murderers are likely to become nervous soon, but also to keep you away from the media hoopla. They will fan the fires quite hot enough without your ready presence." The witch paused and took a deep breath. "We also need to question you further." 

"More questions?" burst out Hermione. "How many more questions can you ask?" 

"Well, we're not going to just ask you questions." Ms. Silvers turned her gaze to the tabletop. "Some of the answers given by you, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter were not sufficient enough for our needs. We need complete answers without hesitation. We will therefore administer Veritaserum before the interrogation." 

Hermione sat upright in shock. _Veritaserum. Rumor has it that Veritaserum could make you reveal truths you didn't even know you possessed._ "You can't do that!" 

"In normal times you would be correct, Ms. Granger. Personal privacy is still respected by the Ministry, but these aren't normal times. The situation is getting more desperate. The Minister is frantic over the news story breaking tomorrow. There are still many who blame the Ministry for not acting sooner during Tom Riddle's second rise." The AIC frowned slightly. "He's well aware that if this is not ended quickly, he won't likely be appointed Minister next term. He wants us to apprehend the murderer _now_. The Bureau have been given _carte blanche_, and we are to obtain all necessary answers through whatever means necessary." Ms. Silvers looked back up from the table and into Hermione's eyes, a tinge of sympathy in them. "If it is any consolation, only Mr. Quentin or I will be present during questioning. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter will not be there." 

Hermione fought the urge to laugh bitterly. _It never ends, does it? And not a bloody thing I can do to change the situation._ "Some consolation. So. Do we start now?" 

"Oh no. We are not ready just yet. You are in for a bit of a wait, I'm afraid. You're not the only one to be requestioned. Mr. Potter has not yet arrived, though Mr. Weasley is already here waiting with the others." 

"Others?" 

"Yes. Several other Hogwarts _alumni_ and some professors." Ms. Silvers indicated the guarded door at their left. "You'll see them all in a second. I just wanted to let you know the situation." 

Wondering whom else the Ministry had dragged in for questioning, Hermione sighed. "I have no choice, do I? Have you any idea how long I will be here?" 

The Auror's lips thinned into a straight line. "Until the murderer is caught." 

"Ah, yes. Of course." Resigned, Hermione shook her head and stood. "I suppose I should go in and wait." 

"That will be fine Ms. Granger. Mr. Quentin is in there as well, making sure there is no…trouble. Try not to worry too much about the Veritaserum." 

Wondering vaguely what "trouble" there was for Mr. Quentin to stop, Hermione strode over to the door to the holding room and one of the guards pushed it open. 

She blinked as almost all the heads in the room turned to look at her. She took a step forward, and the guard let the door swing shut behind her. Hermione's eyes swept quickly around the room. Mr. Quentin, Ron, Professor Sprout, Professor Sinistra, Lisa Turpin and two boys she couldn't recall studied her with guarded eyes. _Good. Even if I can't talk with Ron, I will have no problems with the others._ However, as she turned her gaze on the last person, it was suddenly clear what Ms. Silvers meant by "trouble". 

"Well, if it isn't Mudblood Granger," drawled Draco Malfoy. He was sitting by himself, utterly alone. All others in the room, save for the Auror, seemed to ignore his presence completely. 

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione said calmly. _I am twenty years old. It will take more than Malfoy calling me Mudblood to make me lose my temper._

"I'm not surprised to see you, Granger, especially since Weasley is here. I understand he's in trade, hawking rubber chickens or some such rubbish. No class at all, but not such a pauper as he was. Still joined at the hip, are you? And after all these years! Don't you three have lives besides one another?" Draco's eyes glittered with malevolent delight. 

Hermione paused a second before replying, then decided that no answer was best. He certainly didn't deserve the time of day. She merely lifted her chin, picked her way across the room and sat by Lisa, who smiled broadly, then hurriedly looked away. 

"Cat got your tongue? Granger without an answer for once?" 

"Mr. Malfoy, stop baiting Ms. Granger, if you please," said Mr. Quentin tiredly, not moving from his place at the table. 

Draco glared at him. "Well, I do not _please_. It does not _please_ me to be here. I thought you wanted me to talk. If you don't, then _please_ let me go!" 

Mr. Quentin just sighed. 

Draco turned back to Hermione. "I must say, Granger, the years haven't treated you at all kindly. You still have that rat's nest you call hair? No wonder Weasley is all the way over there and not over here. He's probably afraid to be seen next to you." 

Hermione gritted her teeth. _Don't say anything! I am better than Malfoy! I am no longer eleven years old. I won't allow him to bug me like he did._

"Do tell me where Potter is? Was he thrown out of the little _ménage a trois_? I'm not surprised. He was always a thin reed. Not that Weasley isn't, but he does have that poor little whipped puppy expression. Some find that attractive, they say." 

Hermione sneaked a glance at Ron. He held himself rigid and showed no indication of looking up from his parchments, but a blush was already spreading across his face. She was surprised that he hadn't reacted to Malfoy's baiting. _Well, I suppose he's not eleven anymore. Even wizards have to mature sometime. Not Malfoy, though._

"So. Dominatrix Granger? I can appreciate that. In fact, if you would like to come to my mansion after this little…" 

_That does it._ "Shut up, Malfoy!" snapped Hermione, turning to face him. "You're just a pale washed-out wanker with too much money for his own good. Some find _that_ attractive also, _they say_." 

His gray eyes twinkled, delighted that Hermione had risen to his bait. "More than are attracted to Weasley's bank account, it would seem-- or to yours, for that matter. Hard times on the streets, Granger? Employers don't want an insufferable know-it-all around? Well, if you change your mind, come up to the mansion-- to the rear door, please." 

At the last insult her face hardened. "You insufferable little git." 

"I'm wounded, Granger, truly I am. I thought for a moment that you might have had a change of - heart?" Malfoy snickered. 

As Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Lisa tugged on her arm and whispered, "Don't listen to him, he's an idiot." 

"Oh, and you're a bloody genius?" sneered Malfoy. "Pardon me for not knowing your name." 

"Mr. Malfoy, if you don't shut your gob and the Aurors don't make you, I will come over and shut it for you." Apparently Professor Sinistra had apparently gotten tired of all the bickering. She sat in the back of the room, clutching a Muggle book in her hands. "I'm trying to read, if you don't mind, and your incessant barbs are driving me to distraction." 

"Oh, _Professor_, I didn't know you cared!" Draco smirked, but he nevertheless settled down. He was happy in the thought that he had annoyed Hermione enough -- for the moment. 

After this outburst, everyone was quiet and the time slowly crawled by. Hermione quickly became bored, having left any reading material in her suitcase, which the Aurors had. For lack of anything else to do, she spent the time further scrutinizing her fellow "prisoners". 

Hermione remembered Lisa Turpin from her days at Hogwarts. They had partnered several times in Gryffindor/Ravenclaw classes. While they hadn't become good friends, they had become friendly acquaintances. At the time, Lisa had dark brown hair that fell smoothly to her shoulders, calm hazel eyes, and a shy but welcoming smile. Not much had changed since then. Lisa had let her hair grow out to her mid-back; today, she had it styled in a long braid. Dressed in plain robes, she now wore glasses that served to make her look even more studious than before. At the moment, she was greedily reading a thin, worn book, the title of which Hermione couldn't see. 

Hermione had had Professor Sinistra for Astronomy. She had been a preoccupied teacher, more intent on gazing at the heavens then making sure her students were following her lessons. She was still tall and thin with frizzy shoulder-length black hair with streaks of white through it. The witch was hunched over, nearly folded in two, reading a book. From what Hermione could see, it seemed to be a muggle one about astronomical superstitions. Occasionally the professor would smile, as if she had found something particularly funny. 

Professor Sprout was a welcome sight to see. While Hermione had had Sinistra just occasionally, she had had Sprout every year at Hogwarts. Her gray hair fell into cheery blue eyes set in a plump face. A quick look at her hands proved that she had been a Herbology professor; the ends were slightly brown. She had always reminded Hermione of a kindly grandmother. Hermione wondered if she was still teaching at Hogwarts. 

Draco Malfoy was a surprise to Hermione. As a student at Hogwarts, he had been quite sought after. The white-blonde hair and silvery gray eyes had been a novelty. However, his looks hadn't improved much within the past three years. His hair was now completely white. It was grown to his shoulders and was tied by with a band. His skin was still pale, almost translucent. It was clear that he had grown a bit, and had put on some muscle as well. Dressed in costly dark gray robes, his face still held the expression of someone who felt they were far superior to the people around them. 

The remaining two boys whom Hermione couldn't place seemed to know each other. The one with light brown hair, almost the color of Hermione's, she could almost swear had been in Hufflepuff. The other one with dark blonde hair, she didn't remember at all. 

Hermione took a quick look at Ron. He seemed the same as he had before. His brow furrowed as he studied a sheaf of parchment in his hand. She guessed that he was reading sales reports for Weasley Wizard Wheezes. 

After an hour and a half hour of silent waiting, the door to the outer room finally opened. Harry stepped inside looking annoyed and rushed. Hermione winced as Draco sat up eagerly. 

"Potter! So glad you could join us. One would think that you didn't want to see your old schoolmates." Draco said with false glee. 

Harry came to a full stop and stared at Draco. "Malfoy," he acknowledged, his pale eyes going flat with distaste. 

"Just 'Malfoy?' Nothing else for your longtime pal? Oh, Potter, where have your manners gone? Perhaps the same place as your hair?" 

Harry took an angry step towards Draco as Ms. Silvers entered the room. She reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "Please sit down, Mr. Potter. If Mr. Malfoy bothers you so much, I suggest you take a seat away from him." 

"Ooo, yes, follow her advice Potter. Don't want to start fights, no we don't. You might lose this one." 

Harry took a seat in the back of the room near Sinistra as Ms. Silvers took a position at the head of the room. She surveyed them all silently for a moment, nodded at Mr. Quentin, and began to speak. 

"First let me say that the Ministry is pleased that everyone could come." Ms. Silvers held up a quick hand, forestalling any outbursts. "We know that you are all here under Ministry orders. However, Mr. Quentin and I are particularly gratified that everyone responded so swiftly and with minimum of argument. 

"As is obvious, there has been another murder. Murders, in fact. The Ripping Curse was cast in Diagon Alley, killing dozens. Only because of the quick thinking of an Auror on the scene was the death count not hundreds." Ms. Silvers frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. "Due to its especially vicious nature and due to the fact that the press has finally realized that the recent murders are connected, we have assembled you here. While we have been questioning all of you off and on these past two weeks, things have taken a serious turn. 

"It has become imperative that we find the murderer as soon as possible. While the murderer most likely does not have a legion of Death Eaters to terrorize the populace, the mere existence of someone copying the murders of Tom Riddle is enough to throw the wizarding population into a panic. 

"We think it is therefore obvious why Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger are here. As those instrumental in Tom Riddle's death, they have the most information to offer - and are most in danger. We are restricting them to the Ministry grounds for their own safety. 

"Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra are here because they were professors at Hogwarts during the second Downfall of Tom Riddle. Since the school was a particular target at the time, their views and opinions concerning that time will be invaluable. 

"Ms. Turpin, Mr. Ackerley, and Mr. Whitby are here because as students at Hogwarts during the Downfall, they might have seen or hear something that others might not have. Furthermore, since they were in different houses, they might have differing recollections. 

"Mr. Malfoy." Ms. Silvers paused here and looked at the smirking Slytherin. "Mr. Malfoy, you are here because your late father was a close confidant of Tom Riddle. You might know something about the character of Tom Riddle that will help us find the murderer." 

Draco snorted but didn't make a comment. 

"Normally, only Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter would require protective custody, but because of the nature of the investigation - and the impending media frenzy - we are restricting all…" 

At that, everyone began to murmur. Sitting beside Hermione, Lisa Turpin muttered, "They can't do that! I can't be cooped up here. I thought it was only going to be for a few days…" 

Ms. Silvers waited until the noise had subsided. "I wish I could say that you have a choice in this matter, but you have none. The Minister of Magic has given the Department of Magical Law Enforcement full power to close this case as soon as possible. As a result, they have granted the Wizarding Bureau of Investigation, and therefore Mr. Quentin and me, authority to do nearly anything necessary, including restricting your movements. If you have concerns, please address them to Mr. Quentin or myself. 

"You will stay here at the Ministry until the murderer is either caught or proved to be deceased. Most of your days will be spent in this room. As the investigation progresses, we may require you to answer questions, we therefore need you ready at hand. During the evening you will be permitted to visit different areas of the Ministry. You will be told which areas tomorrow morning. If anything is needed from your places of residence, let us know and we will send an Auror. For security purposes, we must insist on no further contact with anyone outside the Ministry. 

"As for the questioning, we must inform you that 'nearly anything' includes authorization for the use of Veritaserum." 

Hushed muttering broke out again across the room. Hermione had already been warned of this possibility. A quick glance told her that Harry and Ron weren't surprised either. It seemed to be news to the others, however. 

Ms. Silvers didn't wait for the muttering to die down this time, just raised her voice above it. "Mr. Quentin is fully qualified to administer the Veritaserum. He has been trained in its effects and how to question one under its influence. He will only ask questions pertinent to our investigation. Furthermore, a Quick-Quotes Quill will be recording the session as protection for both you and for him that he has asked no questions that he should not have asked. There is no need for alarm. 

"For the rest of the evening you will remain here for the questioning. I will be elsewhere, dealing with other matters pertinent to this investigation. Should you have any further questions, I suggest you ask them of Mr. Quentin. That is all." Ms. Silvers gave another brisk nod, turned on her heel, and left the room. 

Before anyone could say a word, her partner stood. "We are now ready to begin interrogation. I would like to begin with Ms. Granger. Ms. Granger, if you would please come with me?" Hermione nodded cautiously. "While we are gone, another Auror will be here to make sure there are no difficulties." The wizard cast a sardonic eye on Malfoy in particular. 

Hermione stood and joined Mr. Quentin at the head of the room. As they left, she took a quick look at the occupants; only Lisa and Draco met her eyes. Lisa silent mouthed "Good Luck". Draco made a rude gesture. 

Hermione followed the AIC into the outer room and then back into the hall. The minute they stepped out, two guards began to follow them. 

Hermione pulled even with Mr. Quentin. "Is this really necessary?" she said while motioning to the two expressionless guards behind them. 

He looked at her briefly. "It is standard procedure for situations like this Ms. Granger. It is for your safety as well as mine. They are Aurors in training and this is valuable experience for them." 

"Oh." Hermione silently walked with Mr. Quentin. They didn't head back to the levivator, but continued through the maze of hallways. Eventually, Mr. Quentin came to a halt outside a plain door. 

"Veritas. Quentin." The door opened immediately. Mr. Quentin motioned Hermione inside. 

It strongly reminded her of the room in which she, Ron, and Harry had been questioned originally. It was plain, with candles on rock walls. There was a small square table in the center, with two chairs. On the table was a small vial filled with a clear liquid. It had to be the Veritaserum. 

As Hermione sat in one chair, Mr. Quentin took the other and pulled out the familiar Quick-Quotes Quill and parchment. Activating it, he said, "Quentin, AIC, questioning Subject Granger. 

"Now Ms. Granger, I am going to administer the Veritaserum. Before I do so, I will perform a Binding Charm on you. This is done mainly for my safety. Some people while on Veritaserum try to run away, to escape. Some people try to hurt the questioner. Since you do not want to suffer the consequences should either event actually happen, I assume you will submit without objection?" 

Hermione looked at the Auror's deceptively mild expression, and swallowed. This is not good. "Yes, I do." 

Mr. Quentin met Hermione's eyes calmly. "Ms. Granger, there is nothing to fear. You are not on trial; you are not a suspect. I will not ask you anything not relevant to the events of the night of Tom Riddle's death. I merely hope that while under the influence of the Veritaserum, you will provide information that will be useful. 

"A final warning. Veritaserum is not a pleasant experience. I know, for I have been subjected to it myself. I suggest that you relax and not fight it." 

Hardly mollified, Hermione nodded. 

The Auror stood, pulled his wand out of his robes, and pointed it at her. "Petrificus Totalus Sed Non Caputus!" 

Instantly, Hermione could move nothing below her head. Mr. Quentin picked up the potion. As he rounded the table, Hermione couldn't forestall the feeling of dread that washed over her. Mr. Quentin uncorked the vial and held it out to Hermione's mouth. "If you would, Ms. Granger, please drink." 

Knowing that he would not appreciate it if she tried to knock it away, Hermione obligingly swallowed the Veritaserum. It tasted of nothing but ice. The liquid was freezing, chilling her tongue and frosting her throat. It slid all the way to her stomach where the cold promptly spread to her extremities. If she hadn't been under a Body Bind, Hermione would have started shivering. 

By the time she had become accustomed to this new presence in her body, the AIC had sat back down. "State your full name." It was clearly an order. 

"Hermione Aerina Granger." She was surprised to discover that she didn't stutter. 

"Ms. Granger, where were you on the night of the fourth of May, 1998." 

"I was in Voldemort's castle." The answer came easily enough. For a moment, Hermione wondered if the Veritaserum was working. Maybe all it did was chill the victim into not caring what they said. 

"State completely what events transpired on the night in question." 

"I awoke on the floor of my cell. I was dressed in a white robe. I don't remember putting it on. I stayed there for most of the day. A Death Eater came into my cell, grabbed my arm, and dragged me out of the room." 

"Stop." Hermione became silent. "Did you recognize this Death Eater?" 

Hermione opened her mouth to say no when, to her surprise, she said, "He looked similar to Vincent Crabbe." Surprised, she closed her mouth with a snap and stared at Mr. Quentin. "He did. Why didn't I realize that before?" 

Mr. Quentin nodded. "Veritaserum makes one tell the truth. You probably knew that fact before but never really thought about it. In a sense, your subconscious is also in attendance right now, Ms. Granger. Now, continue with the events of the fourth of May." 

"He pulled me upright and demanded that I follow him. I did. We went straight down the hallway, turned right, went up a staircase, went straight…" 

Mr. Quentin interrupted her recitation. "Ms. Granger, where did you end up?" 

"I ended up in a room that looked like the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It was full of wizards and witches in black robes. The ceiling was like the one at Hogwarts. Lightning flashed across it. There were no floating candles. I could see because of an illumination in the center of the Hall." 

"What did you think the light was at the time?" 

Hermione blinked. "I thought it was a fire set on the floor. I couldn't think of what else could give off the light." 

"Continue." 

"The Death Eater pushed me forward. The other people in the room parted in front of me and I was prodded to the center of the room. I saw then that the light didn't come from a fire, but from a crystal." 

"Stop. Describe the crystal." 

"It appeared to be made of raw quartz. It floated six feet off the ground and pulsed with a strong white light. I didn't see any flaws in the crystal facets." 

"Continue." 

"Three others stood around the crystal: Harry, Ron, and Voldemort. Both Harry and Ron were wearing white robes as well." 

"Describe Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter." 

Hermione didn't want to say anything, but the Veritaserum forced her to answer. "Ron looked as if he didn't know where he was. I suppose he was in a catatonic state. Harry looked as if he were already dead. His eyes were flat but they recognized me. I knew…" Suddenly Hermione _did_ know. "…that he hated me." 

"After you arrived in the center of the Hall, what happened next?" 

"Voldemort began to speak. He said, 'My Death Eaters, did I not promise you glory? Did I not promise you power? And did I not promise you Harry Potter and his supporters brought low? Look at them, able with a few movements and a word to destroy me utterly. But I have destroyed them first though they breathe. I have destroyed them by cracking their bond of friendship. They will never ever recover.'" Hermione stopped, her eyes widening at the words that were spilling out of her mouth. 

Mr. Quentin nodded. "Continue." 

"He…he grabbed Harry's right arm. He lifted it and said, 'See how he doesn't react. He's as good as dead inside his mind. There isn't always need to hurt physically; mentally and emotionally do just as well!' He then let Harry's arm fall and said 'And today, Death Eaters, today you and I will finally have what is rightfully ours. Our power will rise above all others and we will crush the world to our feet. My followers, we will be gods and nobody, nobody, will be able to stand in our way.'" 

"Confident bugger, wasn't he?" Mr. Quentin muttered under his breath. "Continue Ms. Granger." 

"He said, 'Each murder that you have performed in these past month, each drop of blood you have spilt has not been wasted. All the power released from those deaths has been carefully stored. The Mortifer crystal is holding the released powers of more than a hundred wizards and witches! With that power, we will be able to take over England's Ministry of Magic easily. From there, it will be a short distance to enslaving the world!'" 

Mr. Quentin leaned forward, excited. "Mortifer crystal, you say?" 

"Yes," said Hermione confused. "He said, 'The Mortifer crystal is holding…'" 

"Stop. Continue where you left off." 

"He said, 'Death Eaters, here and now will we destroy all who oppose us, symbolized in this boy, whom the wizarding world fondly call _The Boy Who Lived_. His blood will be the gateway to our power, his friends the funnel through which we will receive the power. Their blood, poured on the Crystal, will lift us all!' Then he drew a knife…" 

"Describe the knife." 

"It was silver, about a foot long. The blade itself was formed in a zig-zag pattern." 

"Zig-zag, hm." Mr. Quentin thought for a moment. "Did you see any characters inscribed upon it?" 

"No, there were none." 

Mr. Quentin sighed. "Continue." 

"Voldemort went over to Harry, closed his eyes, and lifted the knife with his left hand. He said, 'And now we will kill them. We will take the power that is ours and I will lead you ahead of the legions of the Dark!' However, before Voldemort could slash downwards, I jumped forward and stopped his arm before it could fall. Harry grabbed Ron and I grabbed Harry's hand. We shouted, 'Erradico Schelus'. The crystal cracked and a great fire sprang up. And then, I blacked out." Hermione ended with a shuddering sigh. 

Mr. Quentin was silent as he considered all of this. "Ms. Granger, why did you jump forward and stop Voldemort from killing Mr. Potter?" 

"Because if I didn't, it wouldn't be possible to activate the spell." 

"How did you know that Mr. Potter would say the spell?" 

"I didn't know for certain, but I hope he would because I asked him." 

"Ah." Mr. Quentin's eyebrows rose. "The elusive telepathy that you spoke of before. You spoke to him through your eyes?" 

"Yes." 

"Mr. Potter believes that the Iunctura bond was aiding telepathy. Do you believe this?" 

"I don't know." And she truly didn't. "If I were to make a guess, that would be it." 

"And, Ms. Granger, why did you ask Mr. Potter to help you destroy Voldemort?" 

She didn't have an answer. She couldn't have an answer. She didn't want to have an answer! Hermione clamped her lips shut, but the Veritaserum forced her mouth open. "I asked him to care because it wasn't right to allow the whole world to be enslaved; because even though I didn't care if _I_ died, I didn't want the rest of the world to be tortured; because even though Harry and Ron hated me and I them, I didn't want them to die; because I hated Voldemort and did want _him_ to die; because I have _always_ done what is right, I couldn't not do so!" The last bit came out as a wail. Hermione was horrified to realize that tears were coursing down her face. 

Mr. Quentin was silent as he watched the tears fall. "Let me say Ms. Granger, that I am most glad that you did what was right that night. If not, I would certainly be dead. As many others have said before me, 'What is right is not always easy'. Not many wizards or witches could have found the strength of character to break through their apathy." 

"I'm glad that you're so grateful," sniffled Hermione. "Is there any possibility that you could wipe my nose?" 

Solemnly, the Auror retrieved a handkerchief from within his robes, leaned across the table, and wiped the tears from Hermione's face. After wiping away the tears, he settled back. "Ms. Granger, do you remember recognizing any faces of the Death Eaters in the Hall?" 

"Peter Pettigrew. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Macnair, who almost decapitated the hippogriff during my third year at Hogwarts. Someone who looked like Gregory Goyle. Those are all I can recall." 

The AIC sighed. "Ms. Granger, I thank you for your patience and your time. I know this entire ordeal has not been easy for you. I believe that we finally have all the information that we need from you." 

Hermione merely nodded. 

Mr. Quentin checked his watch. "This version of Veritaserum lasts approximately one hour before its effects wear off. I will go now to inform Ms. Silvers about our conversation. When I get return, you should be able to tell lies again, if you so desire." He smiled for the first time since they entered the Veritaserum chamber. He rose from the table, deactivated the Quick-Quotes Quill, and took the parchment on which it had recorded the transcript of the interrogation. He opened the door to the chamber and motioned in the two guards standing outside. Only when they had assumed their new stations did the Auror leave. 

Hermione sat, not looking at the guards who watched her steadily. Instead, she thought about the Veritaserum. _It's so dangerous. The way it can make you say things that you don't consciously remember._ If she could have moved, Hermione would have shuddered. _I would not want it in the hands of my enemies -- or of my friends, for that matter. There are times when the absolute truth will do nothing but destroy. Thank goodness Veritaserum is not all that common and incredibly difficult to brew._

_And the things it made me say! I don't even remember anything about a Mortifer crystal or that Crabbe's father removed me from my cell. It can truly make you remember things that you have forgotten. _

I wonder what the Aurors will ask the others when they are brought in here. I wonder what they will answer. I'd love to be in here when they questioned Malfoy! Hermione smiled involuntarily. _I'd love it even more if I could ask some of my own questions! I bet I could wipe that smug, sanctimonious smirk off his face. I wonder if he has ever told anyone the truth about anything._

Hermione thought back to some of her answers extracted from her by the Veritaserum. _I hate Ron and Harry. Well, I suppose I knew that all the time. I just never really said it before. And they hate me. It is difficult to believe that hate could come out of seven years of friendship. And it is certainly true that I've always done what is right._ Hermione's thoughts turned slightly bitter. _Strange, isn't it? That someone would want to do what is wrong. But a part of me wants to do exactly that._ Hermione sighed. _Completely illogical but there you go. I suppose I am just so…tired of being the one who has to do what is right._

Her inner dialogue was cut off abruptly as the door opened. Mr. Quentin entered without the parchment he had left with. "Ms. Granger? How are we doing?" 

Surprised, Hermione realized that the icy coldness that had flooded her was receding. "Better, I think." 

"Why don't you try lying to me right now. Try to tell me that you are thirty years old." 

"I am…" Hermione struggled against the compulsion to say twenty, "I am…am…th-th-thirty years old!" 

Mr. Quentin nodded. "Close enough. In a half hour, you won't even stutter." Pulling his wand out of his robes, the Auror pointed it at Hermione. "Finite Incantatem." 

Able to move again, Hermione massaged her upper arms, which had grown a bit stiff. As she did so, Mr. Quentin advised her. "It is now ten o'clock. The others have been taken to their temporary quarters. We have put Lisa Turpin and you in the same room, since you are both witches of similar ages. The guard will escort you there. In all probability you will be awakened early tomorrow morning. I suggest that you go to bed directly when you arrive. I thank you again for your participation and for your patience today Ms. Granger." 

Once she felt as if she could move without falling, Hermione stood and walked to the door. One of the guards held it open for her as she left, and said, "Follow me, Ms. Granger" and they set down the halls of the labyrinth called the Containment Dungeon. 

After many twists and turns, her guards abruptly stopped. There were outside another room, watched with yet two more guards. "Here's your room Ms. Granger. Good night." One of the guards opened the door and Hermione slipped inside. 

Lisa looked up from the book she was reading by torchlight. "Hermione! How…how did it go?" 

Hermione smiled tiredly. "It's over, thank goodness." 

"And the Veritaserum?" 

"It wasn't so bad. Don't try and fight it, though, it's useless. Just speak as fast as you can and it'll be over." Hermione went to the small bed that was pushed up against the wall. Opening her suitcase, she pulled out a nightgown, toothbrush, and toothpaste. "Where's the bathroom?" 

"Down the hall. Ask the guards outside to show you where it is." Lisa grimaced briefly. "Just a warning, they'll follow you. They won't go _in_ with you, which is a bloody relief, but it's disturbing enough to have them escort you everywhere." 

Hermione just sighed. "Thanks for warning me. I suppose the guards are for security, but their shadowing gets tiring quick." 

After changing into her nightgown and brushing her teeth, she went back to the room. She entered into darkness; Lisa had gone to sleep. Relieved that she wouldn't have to chat, Hermione stumbled over to the bed and fell gratefully into it.   
  
*******  
  


Recently, I've decided to move my writing to a wonderful Harry Potter website called FictionAlley. However, to be fair to my readers on ff.net, I will continue to post the rest of this story's chapters here but future stories will be posted exclusively at FictionAlley. 

You can visit FictionAlley by going to http://www.fictionalley.org 

Thank you!   
  



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